There was change, a new pulse, in the life I had known,
where mother had been, in the house, we called home
Where two maples stretched out, to cradle my dreams, and to shelter my life
On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake, with windows cracked open,
a wind coming in, .... an intangible night, in the familiar old room,
alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things...
There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on,
and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go
The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass,
was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, for a place to fit in
My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride
in the same sacred bed, where my mother had died
And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room
where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon
I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained. I was there at his side,
when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too
But, I was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings
Somehow, it's alright, now, the shadows are new. The sepia light, changes the view
I am older, much older than then,... yet, I'm the moth seeking flame...
batting my wings, resisting the change, ....again, and again

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.

Come and gone like small twister
like the cloud of debris he’s left.
Echoes of Charlie Brown’s buddy Pigpen
blow through the cobwebs in memory.
Left over coffee cups replacing
Transformers still dumped in the attic.
Reams of knarley skateboards, wheel-less,
lay in piles like so much unburnable refuse.
The obligatory hugs and peck, over and done
the never paid chauffeur collapses…
Ah, to have him always near,
So, each kiss was not quite so dear.
The last fair maid on parade has wandered across
the home front, wondering about her predecessor,
still tacked with magnets to the fridge,
still part of my heart and his…
Sons…they say, do not cause such angst.
Couldn’t prove it by this mother.
This maternal blimp of unused helium
was not permitted a girl child.
One did come and fleetingly leave before formed.
We’ll never know the sweetness of her.
Let the image of his manly self disperse, this son..
into the mist as his Father’s has…
to be remembered again, only in times of need, his need,
for to do anything else, would be to rub salt
in an open wound.

* Written for my daughter, who really does have a precious pair of Little Yellow Socks.
Little Yellow Socks
by Amy Swanson 12/5/2008
Little yellow socks
running down the hall
"Slow down with those socks on,"
I'd yell... too late, the fall!
Little yellow socks
padding softly late at night
climbing up into my lap
one more hug, out goes the light.
Little yellow socks
follow me with squeals of laughter;
Oh how she loves to run in them,
Begging me to come chase after!
Little yellow socks...
now not being worn a lot.
My little girl is growing up,
No longer just a tot.
Little yellow socks
will be cast aside someday
I must guard these precious moments;
in my heart, they'll safely stay.

Blood that screams mixes with tears of fears,
Over your hypocrisy and useless years.
Fresh cuts don't matter - your attentions yet wane.
It's just too easy to shut down, I could end this pain.
But, escape artists aren't artists at all.
When life ends the real journey begins, the journey to be
Above imperfection and glorified weakness everyone sees.
Life trickles into the drain of the sink, wash it and pretend
The veil is burning off,but there is only so much fire can mend
Besides, escape artists aren't artists at all.

Take me home
Where the sunsets are golden
And God’s gossamer curtains ripple between the mountain tops
Where the seas are clear as the sky above
And the waters tickle the shoreline
Take me home
Where the food is simple
And tastes all the better
Where the cabs run for cheap
And smell a little funny
Take me home
Where childhood was magical
And to this day feels like a dream
Where make-believe was the truth
And the future did not exist
Take me home
Where the nights never end
And laughter is our language
Where I drown in myself
And moonlight shines behind my eyes
Take me home…
I’ve lost my way

My white-washed bars surrounded me -
they held me as I slept;
they soothed me when the days were long,
and mother’s blue-eyes wept.
A baby girl, six months or less,
awakened from my sleep -
stood up legs as sure as hope;
as strong as flat is steep.
My hands, my saviors, gripped the rail
so I could peek outside –
the bluest sky I’d ever seen,
As tall as it was wide;
came into view - between the blue,
an airplane gliding by,
its smoky streamer like a flag,
across my memory’s sky...
The memory is a simple one -
a window, sky, and plane -
but in my heart, it's heaven's door
and there it shall remain.
I’ve hung it on my memory’s wall
Between that life and this –
It covers every hole I’ve dug
In sorrow’s vast abyss.
This picture brings the special peace
I knew when I was small –
Where mother’s just beyond the door,
and waiting for my call…
*Inspired by Danielle's Earliest Memory contest. I have blocked out almost every memory
from my childhood, and only a very few gems remain - this is the first. and I will treasure it
always...

I am like
Cleopatra
embraced by serpents many
fear
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
hair
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to ‘be of good mind’
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a
‘splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush’
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize,
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
power
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
‘because it gives you life’
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you

I never did the
''He loves me not....
He loves me'' game
with flowers.
I already knew nobody loved me
so why should I listen
to a stupid flower?
I did make wishes
on dandelions
after the bloom died
and it was tiny spikes of fluff
waiting to blow away
till next year.
I hated wasting my time
but I couldn't resist.
I figured
''If there's even a small hope
that this will work....
I've got to try! ''
I would find a spot
where nobody could see me
and I'd whisper
my one wish
the same wish
every time.
Thousands of dandelions
blown away
by my pleading breath.
I never told a soul
my wishes.
Until now.
I wished to be happy
one day...
with a husband
who loves me
and kids who love me.
I wished so hard...
I never thought
those dandelions
were listening.

A burst of white light
gamma rays, overbearing
a flash of brilliance
burns through to my soul
everything is like hell
the world starts to melt
in the blink of an eye
just the cold blackness
of night
I don't care if I am not again
what I once was, for at this moment
I am greater now
than ever before
I took the path between
teetering, tight roping walking
right up to my right
divined in my unholy state
I thought I told you
I am your king
still you sit there, hesitating
I know you hate me
what does that mean?
I hate just about everything
still I'm chosen
I did not wish before
now bow down to me
refuse me no more
for I shall always be your demon
until you accept me as your King.
I don't even know you
though you say we used to be
best of friends, you and me
the day you ditched me
I remember now
exactly how it played out
back when we were just tiny things
even back then I still was King
you thought me stupid
just a ruse
I would laugh inside, you see?
not one of you single, mean people
ever even knew me
in a world, mostly seen to me
that is why only I can be your true King
and bring forth a new source
of light everlasting.
As two worlds collide slowly aligned
one wrapped in shadows
one bathed in white
evils swirling in the clouds above
I'll always be the king you love
to hate or despise as in your blood
I thought I told you, I am the one
I am the way, the way out shall be shown
breathe in my spirit as it carries you away
breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space
and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough
higher than you've ever dreamed of
for I am king now, and your in my hell
your in my imagination, I'll just never tell
you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now
if you try and see
you were always found the most
shared in the light cast upon me
the last bright star in heaven.
Denounce my name, if you may
One year later, still not afraid
A black sheep, a darkened spade
That's just life, I'm not right
I'm in the wrong, follow along
Like a piper, I'll pitch a song
Mesmerized, the weak wills sing
I thought he told you, he's still our king.

Young girls’ bright eyes widened
Behold the wild wheat field
Playground for imaginative innocents
Gracefully swaying golden stalks
Feathered with grain centers
Shooting up like ostrich plumes
Enhanced by the aroma
Of tantalizing potato pancakes
Wafting from Miss Anna’s kitchen
Such was the ideal venue
For hide-and-go-seek
The catch of a summer’s day
Chewing on a chicken leg
Hiding low in duck-walk form
Produced a lesson in nature
Black ants erected colonies
Tiny birds sang overhead
Warm sun bathed the golden paradise
Plans dashed through my mind
When I grow up, I want to live here
Right here in the amber field
Thatched weeds can be my roof
Rain will not seep through
As I play host to God’s creatures
I’d want for naught
Grain could sustain me
As wind-swept shadows dispelled the heat
Two decades passed swiftly
Before my eager return
To revisit my playground of youth
Stinging sadness overcame me
As I stared at an empty mall
That had replaced the weeds
What is there about a bulldozer
That doesn’t like a meadow
And buries forever a young girl’s dreams
But I will always remember
Gracefully swaying, bowing stalks
With grain centers that shot up like ostrich plumes
Casting shadows on little girls’ faces
And lives

My Parent
The rules said “one parent not two”
Good for me as I only had you
No selection; no one to choose
Who is this parent; just follow the clues
Next rule; write something “profound”
Something good or something that makes you frown
This one was easy
Considering all you ever said was greasy
“You stupid _____”
This one was rich
“Go get the belt”
Not satisfied till there was a welt
The pain is still felt
How about “you swine”
Became a preference in time
Not “go to bed”
Followed by a blow to the head
So hard could have become brain dead
Your scars are still here
Your pain I still wear
Your mistakes I still bare
Your voice I still hear
Your secrets I now declare
Your presence I no longer fear
Your wrong doings I am aware
Your hate is replaced with tender loving care
Did you follow the clues
Who's this in reference to
Someone you want to be related to
Perhaps it’s someone you already do
This is my parent… I wish it were untrue!
Lay
**For "My Parent" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts.
* Honorable Mention

UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN A parent's lament
Children
with Wings
and Talons
Pounce on the fleetest of hearts
their
Memories
Soar
over the
Blood Transfusions
Hospital frights of prematurity
of EMS sirens
HIV trembling tests
Asthma Tents
Breathless Worry atop cloud kissed Trees
Sleepless Nights of bully battles
Struggles with Education’s foes
Mad Escapes from Fathers of Violence
The teary wave good bye for fledgling endeavors
Day night day night day night…unending
and
Land on
Slight Imperfections and Imagined Slights
or the
Shortage of Cash
for
Trips
Technoshit
New Shoes
New Cars
or other
Dreams
You
Couldn’t
Buy.

Perched high upon the escarpment
of sandstone rubble, the boy sat,
shaded from the rising of the sun
in the shadow of Kings.
Sharp eyed he preyed
upon the tourist below, and to his God Allah.
His path was a treacherous one
looped and twisting like the snakes of ochre gold
shone cresting the brow of Ramesses
in the unearthly Valley of the Kings;
far from the osprey and marsh grass
of the beloved Nile.
Below the boy, on a zigzag path
between the mouth-like openings to the netherworld,
tourists swarm, ants on a mound of honey stone
suckers of sweetness, oblivious,
as they had done for centuries.
He sat as his father before him
hunkered down knees to chest
the vulture heraldic creature of Upper Egypt
death eater, little had changed except
now the robbers wore blue jeans and not the hajab.
He had earned his small bit
of the twentieth century..hawking

A very tender child, aware, knowing
Lives in your consciousness
On your lips, in your heart,
Part of you in every way
Waiting, waiting patiently
To be free, the right combinations
Sequence that every locked door knows
ciphering a message as complex
completing the DNA sequence
and replicate! Do you not know! Replicate, ciphering to transform, to live
becoming alive again and again
old as the ageless mystery of the bells
ringing and singing the song of life
The waiting heart stitches the words
in some special sacramental order
known only to those who wish to know
And when the last bell is struck
They are no longer words
but alive and in becoming alive
they simply spread their wings
and fly away

Sometimes the memories won’t fade
All the places we have seen
All the prices we have paid
The memories of the happy as well as the sad
The people we’ve lost
The friends that we had
Some memories just seem like a ghost
I always lost everyone that I loved the most
The wind would just carry them away
Along with my tears
And my ability to pray
I wonder how far is heaven from here?
How many more heartaches
How many more tears
I wonder how far it is away
Because I have so many things that I wish to say
To all the people that I loved and I lost
I’m not even tripping
My heart paid the cost
The reaper rode the river in a bikers disguise
I’ll never forget the fear in my mother’s eyes
As he drug her under and then let her go
Through my four year old veins hate started to grow
My eyes were blind my ears were deaf
After that I forgot
There was anything left
Karma is like poker for it is bound to luck
When I was just a boy
God through me under the truck
Of all the things in life we feel
We are all bound to God’s will
Passion is a doorway between love and hate
God is the dealer in the game of fate
Our place is not to question why
For if we do our faith will die
The deeper we hate the deeper we love
I was gifted wisdom by the Lord above
Every gift comes at a price
A world of experience behind my advice
Every smile holds a lifetime of pain
Nothing that happens should happen in vein
It is our choice that which we do
Know in your heart these words are true
The harder we fall the further we climb
No ones life is totally sublime
Illusion after illusion will be offered to you
But only the living word is true
The living word that beats in your heart
Will keep you safe as the world falls apart
Through the pain of a boy watching his mother die
It’s never to late to kiss the sky
A man of faith who could never give up
Please come break my bread and share in my cup
By the time our journey is through
I’ll share all I am with you
Hopefully somewhere in my words you’ll see
---Untwisted is truly the way to be---

I walk a mile to see the self in me that I believe to be,
I knew the road I choose to lay my head to sleep is called my home,
times in need I could barely see that in myself I will set free,
the act that held me down, something about me I could not see,
I lived a life when I decide that day I said that I don't care,
so young, so bright, I dim my light, traumatized for me to share,
love me please regardless of what you heard and what you have seen,
friends say that I'm only human, yes you're right, a human but who am I being?
My life will move in the direction I choose,
this I know I have always been taught
that I choose to be a winner or lose,
its entirely up to me its all in my thoughts.
Ken Fepulea'i

I am the center of raw and wild feelings.
Born from an ancient spirit of infant and child.
Falling back in a womb of darkness, myself I discover.
Hiding in an egg, I hear a whisper.
My shell is touched by a promise in the wind's soughing.
Infinite breath of wind caresses, I, who am little.
I am conscious of little.
A time before definition or feelings.
Warm, wild wind soughs.
Motion stirs the blueprint of a child.
God in every breath, every whisper.
Take form and discover.
A bud must open in order to discover.
Hesitation and fear cry out from a bud so little.
Inside a chameleon wears it's feelings.
Fright filters through the pores of a child.
Leaf and skin shiver in a dark wind's soughing.
The angelic songs of a river soughs.
Life's song for us to discover.
Along the riverbank runs the child.
Of the future she knows little.
Reflecting in water a spectrum of feelings.
Their sound is a scream, a laugh, a cry and a whisper.
As I grow the acceptable sound is a whisper.
My tears often mix with a shower's soughing.
Bodies aren't meant to cover feelings.
They should be naked dancers that discover.
Their steps are big and little.
Dance with the flow trusting child.
As I grow older, in my soul lives the child.
My heart is the room where she shouts and whispers.
It's a never-land where she will always be little.
Hope sings in a tear-river's soughing
With care and love we'll learn to discover.
We are courageous explorers of feelings.
The child, her voice a prayerful wind's soughing.
A soft reminding whisper not to fear discovery.
Oh little love I am with you always, experiencing together our feelings.

Bleeding around me are empty faces
Sad, drooping spaces, crumpled places
Melancholy for the light of new places
Stuck in time, frozen in time
The pangs of lonesome fill their sagging hearts
Frowning forever, frowning forever
Let me stare blankly at the stained wall
Nothing at all…nothing at all
The mind is a scary place
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an never-ending...
Entwinement
Found myself looking through the tiny hole in the wall
Watching you fall, watching you fall
Scared for the neck that would break us all
You shuddered my blood…shuddered my blood
I met the eyes of the souls of your feet
Twitching and swinging…unfeeling…unfeeling
Please allow me this sole ease:
Just be with me... lie with me
The mind is a scary place
The mind is a distraction
From the reality ever binding
Curbing every reaction
The mind is overwhelming
The mind is oh so sad
When we turn to larvae and graves
It’s an everlasting...
Entwinement
-inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules-
-also inspired by the stop motion film: The Man in the Lower-Left hand Corner of the Photograph-

Little Long-Legs
by Amy Swanson
Running to me
with big hugs
and even bigger brown eyes
smile full of mischief
arms thrown around my neck
--- almost choking me!---
*smile*
"I love you Mommy!"
my little "Long-Legs"
how fast you have grown.
Almost as tall
as your short mama
*but then that wouldn't take much*
--wink!--
I smile
remembering a time
when my little Long-Legs
... my long-legged girl...
had little bitty
short legs
just learning how to toddle around the house
(falling over!)
crawling faster than I could walk
running to keep up with her...!...
purple baby food plums smeared across a happy smiling mouth
full of giggles
and smiles
with no idea how cruel this world can be;
pure innocence.
Pure contentment.
Oh how time flies.
She's nine next week
birthday princess
toddler toys long gone;
she wants a bike
so she can ride like the wind --
already the taste of freedom in her mouth
already the feel of freedom in her spirit
another step...
away from me.
But she knows
I will always
*and, somehow, forever*
watch over my little girl
even when she is no longer little.
She smiles at me
teeth slightly crooked
hair brushed all by herself
and asks "Do you like my style?"
already planning her fashion agenda
like every "big girl" does.
My almost-nine year old girl
born on lucky clover day
March 17th, 2000
the day she changed my life
*my world*
so grown up, so soon...
and I know more is on the way.
What I don't know
is how this mother's heart will fare
when one day she leaves.
You make my life complete
sunshine girl
full of tickles and giggles
I love you so,
my little Long-Legs.

YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
not me.
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
Al Johnson

I never saw him but he said he could …
dive sixty feet
into three feet of drink ... i
saw him drown drafts
and distillers from glasses that clink …
I never saw him but he said he could …
ride bikes backwards
on bars with his butt … i
saw him
abuse and call her a slut …
I never saw him but he said he could …
whip any ten men
only for fun … i
saw him whip loved ones
and brag he had won …
I never saw him but he said he could …
ascend, sail in air ships … i
saw him soar
from s t a g g e r i n g summits
to heaps on the floor …
he never said he could but i saw him …
InciteinvisibleInvaders
CURSEshadow’sSilence
BR EAK bones
HURT hearts
TURN holidays toHELLDAYS
PUSH peaceTo Pandemonium
I SAW HIM!

I.
In the orange land,
the sidewalks race wild with them,
postured like statues of royal gardens
the marble lions
amongst hibiscus limbs.
II.
I like the smell of them,
earth warmed dirt
and fallen honeysuckle
baked
beneath the Florida sun.
III.
I poke with
one tanned fingertip
where the flesh
cocoons around their
soft belly,
it is like
the open sesame
for lizards.
IV.
The open mouth of a lizard
has no bias
it dangles on ear lobes
like Coco Chanel
classic in style.
V.
When separated
the tail becomes an asp
wrestling with the truth
of it's loss.

Wearing Daddy's boots & cowboy hat & not much in between
Why, Momma, ain't she just about the prettiest baby you've ever seen?
I'm sure wishing she was talking, reading her mind is quite a trick
And she's sure getting awful heavy, I hope she's walking quick
Whoa there, sassy, Momma look at her running wild
Why I am not sure there ever was a more rambunctious child
Life sure was a picnic when we could just bundle her up & go
Now I get tuckered just watching her, she's a pint size dynamo
Waist length braids, a gap tooth grin & freckled face
That's our girl, Momma, her calf just took first place
How old is she now, six? No, she can't possibly be eight
Seems she is growing up faster than I'd anticipate
Well I'll be, look at her standing on the stairs
in a fancy gown, heels & make up putting on womanly airs
this young girl looking back at me, yesterday she was only seven
Now there's a young buck staring at her like he's just seen heaven
Wearing a cap & gown, her diploma held high
Look, Momma, there's our girl, getting ready to give her wings a try
Wasn't it just yesterday she was afraid of the monsters under the bed?
Now she's off to college, her own path to tread
Wearing Grandma's pearls & a gown of antique white
Now, Momma, don't start fussing, everything will be all right
Wasn't it just yesterday, I was wishing she was talking?
Now the music is playing & down the aisle we're walking
Wearing Grandpa's boots & cowboy hat & nothing in between
Why Grandma ain't that the prettiest grandbaby you've ever seen?
Now listen, Sassy, don't go wishing for her to grow up so fast
Treasure each & every moment, create a memory to last
Be mindful of what you wish for when your babes are small
For in just the blink of an eye, they won't be small at all
You dream of turning back the clock & know you never will
For time flies, just as surely as you wish it would stand still

I wiggle my toes in the sands of time,
sifting through the grains and the years gone by.
Lamenting those years I was in my prime.
How fast, they seem now, to have flown by.
Sifting through the grains and the years gone by,
I recall the adventures in my life.
How fast they seem now, to have flown by,
through childhood, teen years, to become a wife.
I recall the adventures in my life.
Of scars and bruised ego's, that brought me here,
through childhood, teen years, to become a wife.
It seems I really had nothing to fear.
Of scars and bruised ego's that brought me here,
I realize now how they did mold me.
It seems I really had nothing to fear,
except for a future, I can not see.
I realize now, how they did mold me.
I relive my life, as the scenes unfold,
except for a future I can not see,
yet looking forward, to what my future holds.
Reliving my life, as the scenes unfold,
lamenting those years I was in my prime.
Yet, looking forward to what my future holds,
I wiggle my toes in the sands of time.
Entry for "The Pantoum" contest
Hosted by: Jared Pickett
Placement: Honorable Mention

I once knew your point of view.
Innocent and fresh.
Sweet as the mourning dew.
Time teaches lessons sometimes harder than they should be.
Sad as the old lonley man.
Who watches the young lovers so very foolish and free.
Like the seasons of spring and summer.
Along with foolish lies.
I wish you could stay eternal sweet young eyes.
Never to feel the pain or know the cold.
To experience the bitterness of time.
Or the emptyness of growing old.
But with days slowly passing even the
greatest passion dies.
I wish you never to know the truth.
And remain forever my sweet young eyes.

So, what do you have to tell me,
Oh little girl, my little girl?
Oh what do you have to tell me
that brings wholeness
to our world?
~~~
I was not born all filled with fear,
I was not born for hate
I did not arrive
upon this world
too early or too late
~~~
Oh, little girl,
you need not cry,
Your sadness is
from years gone by
Take heart, my sweet and gentle one at last our freedom has begun
For you’re still here,
you did not die
I am you
and you
are I

1.
Mom
kept the perch
we caught in a bucket.
And when we took them home
She would clean and place them
In our twenty gallon tank
Where they bobbed in stunned silence
Eyes watching for any white movement.
Nobody cared
when they committed fishicide
on their domesticated tank-mates.
Even the little beta fish
Who had survived our six day pilgrimage from Florida, to find Mecca
was a cool whip container.
2.
Whenever we had guests for dinner,
Mom swooned they
were the smartest fish she had ever seen.
She bestowed upon them names - Jed and Lucy
tapping at the glass
with one extended finger,
feeding them fish flakes,
like porpoises fed from the teeth of a trainer in Ocean World
“You can’t keep perch in a fish tank”
the guests would say,
but
they lived for two years
bobbing and staring
in the vacant tank space.
3.
One crisp winter morning
Jed finished his breakfast of gold fish flakes, took one
last gulp of slimy tank
water
then hurled
himself off of glass
walls.
It went
over and over,
so hard
I almost thought
the glass would crack.
4.
Lucy
sat quietly and watched
him.
She too died a few days later
like aged soulmates
who often cease
to be after their amor
dies.
When someone left the lid open,
she plunged
her blue green skin shimmered
as she laid
making fish O’s in the dry air..
I often wonder
if the air that morning
smelled
like an ice floe
to a better place
somewhere Jed waited
with our beta and our angel fish
a place of worms, kelp
and dragonflies.
4.
Mom
emptied the tank of the murky filtered water.
Rinsed the ultra neon yellow fish gravel,
and placed the fake plants on a sponge.
Separating air filter, from pump
from clear plastic tubing
and put to rest
in a brown cardboard box..
She did it without a word.

I look into his soft blue eyes
And see the face of two before him
The sweet innocence and wonder
Of all that the world possesses
For in him lies the possible
Those things that escaped before
As our time is too short
To experience all the beauty before us
His smile and giggle so enchants
Free of the worldly weights to come
Unencumbered by life’s many roads
Choosing all rather than some
Such possibilities await this one
As with the two before him
Which ones will he choose
What path shall he take
But not today, for time seems endless
For now, to explore all he sees
When joy is the only decision
And beauty in everything abounds

Thoughts melt and distil under a green/blue flame,
Swirling down, separated out and mixed.
If you’ve seen it, it’s broken;
If you’ve heard it, it’s shredded;
If you’ve read it, it’s rewritten.
It's really quite unlikely to be fixed.
You’re cutting up holiday snaps
and pasting them onto card.
And you’re scrambling madly
to hide the mess on the floor
As your mum yells for cleanliness
From behind your bedroom door.
3001 puzzle pieces and you’re jamming them together,
No wonder your imagination is at the end of its tether.
You’ve got two pieces that are sun-kissed clouds
“What comes… what comes next?”
You’ve got two roots in the soil
“What comes… what comes next?”
Your mother is sitting in the hall
With a scarf tied round her neck,
Her back pressed up against the wall
As she deals the jigsaw deck.
3001 pieces in her hands,
Mixed with childhood drawings
And grains of sand.
She lays out seven in a line,
Which you place between the two and two.
“Oh, but that and that won’t rhyme!”
“Don’t you think that this one will just do?”
And your father’s disapproving in the kitchen,
“You don’t need no occult nonsense,
Or a system to order out your brain”
He just stands there “focussed”
Over a pot on a blue/green flame,
Subconsciously mumbling while stooped,
“Look here Son, look, I’m making poa-tery soup.”
But you would never tell him that,
Just like you’ll never be finished, ever.
No-one ever is
Even if they know they’re doing it or not.
My grandfather died last week,
The sourest stuck-in-a-rut-of-a-man
That you’re ever going to meet.
The diagnosing doctors were in for a treat.
They said that there was something wrong there,
Something wrong with his brain,
That there was something strange there
Fundamentally, main.
They said that he died - after scans - in a cubicle stall,
When his brain haemorrhaged and cracked open,
And jigsaw pieces piled up against the wall.

Dont despair that I dont miss you
want to hold you
wait to kiss you
I cant see you , I can feel you
with a heart line I can reel you
Right back in just like the River
HOMOSASSA taker, giver
In some light you flow beside me
seek to steer me, move me, guide me
To a place I cant remember
Like a glowing, dying ember
Of a time I cant recall
But I know you have it all
Saved on waves of long ago
Washed up somewhere I cant know
Where each tide must rise and fall
Some Lagoon where nightbirds call
Everyone sits 'round the glow
Waiting for someone to know
How to read the map to find me
Even I am left behind me.

To see the world through your eyes…
An aching heart is cured simply by a kiss…
With paper and crayon a new Picasso is hung…
Coffee cans and cooking pots are an orchestra…
A twig is a swashbuckler’s sword saving the day…
Even alone you create new friends to fill a void…
You don’t understand when I can’t see them too…
That sweet beauty you imagine has no boundaries…
I pray you hold onto it for just a moment more…
When you next open your eyes all will be different…
Cans will be junk twigs will become kindling and…
That faithful friend you created will have faded away…
I wish with all my heart you could stay young forever…

Sense of humour, elevating our spirits
Musing over the simple things in life, rejoicing at what we find
Imagination stimulated, childlike, seeing the wonders in life
Light heartedness, laughing at one’s self!
Everything as it is meant to be, smiling, enjoying, the gift of life

In the childhood home her mother spins her child
Round and round we go happiness seems to overflow
And the childhood goes by; faster, faster
A growing child with so much energy running and having fun
Careless and free he runs across the yard
He is growing up; faster, faster
Only in middle school and already a rebel
Sticking up for a friend and getting in a fight
He has courage but still he runs; faster, faster
High school has come at last
The odd man out he cries for attention
Into depression he spirals; faster, faster
At the high school prom he meets a girl
The hearts beet together and the music beats in their ears
They are falling madly in love; faster, faster
Barely a year and a kid on the way
To work and back the same routine, every hour, every day
A wedding is coming closer; faster, faster
So far a happy life, and a good career
They buy a home and outside he spins his child
Another childhood is going by; faster, faster
His life was long another one has started from it
But now the ambulance move; faster, faster
And his heartbeat fails; slower, slower

Quite often it seems we tell kids, it’s best to be first
They sign up for fun; parents, it seems, for the fame
Whether it’s academics or sports, why not just let kids thrive?
Create environments for learning and fun needed to thrive
Nurture with affection and love; be their springboard first
Build the foundation they will need to handle future fame
A solid foundation will ensure an easy adjustment to fame
In any circumstance, self- assurance makes anyone thrive
Teach them, the game of life is not won by coming in first
Good character first, may lead to fame in which anyone can thrive
~*~

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

They took away my innocence—
A child, but merely two years old.
My soul left with ambivalence;
I hate myself as I grow old.
A child, but merely two years old—
Abandoned, glossed over, abused.
I hate myself as I grow old;
Completely left confused and used.
Abandoned, glossed over, abused—
Why would a person hurt a child?
Completely left confused and used—
Naïf, so trusting, meek, and mild.
Why would a person hurt a child?
My soul left with ambivalence—
Naïf, so trusting, meek, and mild.
They took away my innocence.

Drink the drink, and take the pills, lay on the medication.
But your soul's forever lost to them without persistent dedication.
There's things we've learned, and things we will, to decide us right from wrong.
But your ears are only open, now, to a techno-logic song.
Social norms have bound you tight, then cut you awf'ly deep.
And still your soul beneath the surface begs of you, relief.
You waded in their welcome waters, thought it nice and cool
But now I'm sure you've figured out you're lost in sorrows pool
So take it from who knows you best
Someone who has passed this test:

Before you drift out in the sea
And the shore's no longer in your view,
I promise that I'll bring you back
And if I can't, I'll follow you.
Before your legs and arms grow weak
And you've passed your final tier,
I promise that I'll hold your hand;
I promise you I'll still be here.
Before your lungs are filled with water
And our souls are parted once again,
I promise you that you're forgiven;
I promise you I'm still your friend.
Before you close your sunken eyes
Inviting night to kill the day
Know your bright was never slight
And soon you'll see your way.

M y mother died when I was fifteen months old
O h how my heart hurt when I called her so bold
T o heaven her soul did soar_ leaving her children
H ere on this earth, with lives now so totally barren
E each day I wonder why so young she had to go
R easons I will never know in this life though
S atan did his work in destroying family
D evil stirred the father to drink, compulsorily
E aten away was his heart from the loss; Granny
A ttended five children's needs, extra for baby
T o family members word was spread_ youngest given
H ome by adoptive family; but this for child heaven

Pigeons flutter in the park
eating refuse from the grass.
Noon comes; the hours pass.
Leaves fall; the sky grows dark.
Silence reigns throughout the park.
A crumpled headline, a forgotten toy,
lifeless, do not hear a far-off bark.
In the park, not a single little boy.
Midnight comes; the hours go --
soon, the sky begins to glow...
morning breaks, and with it, sound.
In the park begins the morning round.
White skeletons of benches -- slats --
in all the wintry parks of Age
fill up in morning. Deserted flats,
each with the aspect of a cage,
become an unused, waiting gauge
that measures dull and wasted years --
floods of loneliness -- rivers of fears...
The weak and battered, pallid crowd
which, daily, parks ingest
speak in muted tones; but loud
is the message all suggest.
The clangor of the beaten Belles,
trampled in the slime of years,
entreats the mind to plug its ears;
yet, if it will, it hears...
memories, perhaps, keep active still
the shriveled and the loosened flaps
that are the mouths of all the Bills --
reduced to gray and ugly gaps...
Down the graveled pathways come
children bent on carefree play.
Belles, though silent, are not dumb,
nor will the Bills forego their say.
But warnings fall on ears too deaf;
around are eyes too blind to see.
And so the tots, too young for Death,
play on and on till time for tea.
Day after day after day
children come and children play.
Pigeons flutter in the park;
Leaves fall; the sky grows dark.
Once more, deep silence claims the park.
Midnight hours come and go.
The sky again assumes a glow.
Wind stirs dead leaves to rustle.
Starts again the aimless bustle
of the battered, weak, and infirm-eyed:
those whom living failed -- who died
but still must play their signal role
of unloved, friendless, unhailed Old;
who gather daily in the park
to envy tots their vital spark --
the hope, the promise in their eyes --
before it fades, before it dies.
But tots at play -- the young, the bold --
must laugh and sing -- cannot be told
that youth's not long and Time is cold.
Time devours -- a ravenous beast --
and men are the courses at his feast.
Some he swallows in their prime,
On some he waits too long a time:
these rancid morsels, Time's midnight snack,
explore their memories. They hie them back
to that old moment, deepest black,
when they first dared to know -- and first said --
that Time's the master all men dread.
(Please read The Park -- Part Two, which is a continuation of
this poem...due to space limitations)

The Great Clock
Like the sunrise in the morn,
A babe, a life is born.
For a child, the Lord’s own pride
The door of life has opened wide
Beyond the haze, without a sound
The mighty Clock of Life is wound
Ticking on, into the sun
Until one’s time on earth is done.
The child will have to learn to live
When to take and when to give
He learns to fear, to hate, resent,
But love will help him be content.
Of work and play, a footing’s laid,
Of pains and joys a man is made.
A man who soon will stand alone,
To show the world how he has grown.
But soon the Great Clock quickens pace,
And he looks upon a weary face,
Shining once, but shadowed now,
With sagging cheeks and wrinkled brow.
And looking ‘round him he will see
All has changed, not only he.
Mother, brother, sister, wife,
Beaten by the storms of life.
Beneath the hilltop sod is laid
Other loved ones, passed away.
Of tender feelings once held dear
All will someday disappear.
For Time, like the healing sea
Wishes all painful memories free.
For it is better to think of things to come.
Rather than of things which have come and gone.
For the past is dead, all life’s ahead,
And the great Clock, ticks on!
Thomas J. Rauens
(Written in 1968)

The fear of life.
For nine months in warm sweet world
I float there peacefully
Then cast into that birth canal
It kind of frightens me
I feel I’m suffocating
And I don’t know what it is
Too soon I enter crazy world
Far from the gardens bliss.
As light comes shining everywhere
The panic settles in
This world is filled with action
And so much awful din
I feel like I’m in trouble
Yet there’s naught that I can do
It seems this place is crazy
That I’ve been cast into.
Then as I grow from babyhood
And listen to the lies
That all these madmen tell me
Cause they’re not very wise
It seems that something’s wrong with me
My life it feels off key
So the only question on my mind
Is ‘What is wrong with me???’

Mom and dad tried to raise us kids right,
tucked us into bed early each night,
taught us we should always say a prayer,
because the devil lurked everywhere...
That the Good Lord would keep us safe,
no matter what problems we faced,
that He'd watch over us from above,
that a forgiving heart, He'd always love,
But I didn't care, try or see why,
I'd been told the right ways to live by,
and the devil kept on closing in,
that's when all my problems begin,
I ran the streets real late at night,
learned real quick how to fight,
Mom and dad got so uptight,
me coming home at morning light,
I really started messing up at school,
thought that I was just too cool,
and didn't need to live by any Golden Rule,
My oh my, was I a fool,
And that's when more problems begin,
as the devil lurked around every bend,
but I didn't care or reason why...
as I stared the devil in his eye,
I started smoking pot and cigarettes,
through all the coughing, choking regrets,
shooting dice and making bets,
stealing things to pay my debts,
Then I started drinking whiskey and beer,
skipping school, I had no fear,
the devil had me in high gear,
but then I recalled, God was always near,
Yes, the Good Lord opened both of my eyes,
and rescued me from a certain demise,
through all of my past sin and pain,
He's with me watching over me again,
Mom and dad tried to raise us kids right,
tucked us into bed early each night,
as I keep their reminders safe in prayer,
I also pray for everyone, everywhere.

So many thoughts come to mind
If only I could really go back in time
Change or undo my life’s violent and sexual crimes
Tell those around me to open their eyes
Pay Attention to the signs
If only one wish could really rewind
Those pedophilic hands of my life-time…
Then I stopped and started to think
Who would I be if this didn’t happen to me?
What of the woman I’d come to be
The wisdom I’d come to see
And my children who’s lives are abuse free
As a result of my past… my history…
Now, with eyes wide and mind free
Heart pounding, air, LOVE and life in me
Blessed with children to change my legacy,
Equipped with words and strength to share my story… my poetry
I’d wish only to open the eyes of the blind
The mouths of the abused and the hearts of our society…
I’d make them see… I’d make them see
So no other child has to end up like me…
Lay

I’m a child again
I’m a child again and it’s such fun
To kick a ball, and laugh, and run
And walk down to the local park
And being bad, oh, what a lark
I love to watch those colored birds
This always kind of gets me stirred
Their lovely hues, my eyes they daze
These lovely birds do me amaze.
But there is one thing that I do hate
At bath times, fuss I do create
And mum and dad, they get real mad
I suppose I do play up a tad.
And also I do hate that school
With all its daft, and silly rules
But when I write my little stories
That’s when I get my share of glory.
But really, If I had the choice
I’d really like to raise my voice
And tell them ‘I want out of this!!
Being a child gives me no bliss!’
27 August 2013 @ 1722hrs.
Peter Duggan. You're a kid again contest...Age ten

Who am I?
Question indeed!
W-eaned from tender
age,in noble family of ten.
H-urt by the demise of
the tube that brought
me into this theater of
struggles and pains.
O-rdered about by the
whimps of this
world,facing the hurdles
of life daily from
cradle,never giving up
hope.
A-fine young man of 28
I am,who has the
experience and wisdom
of the aged.
M-astering the arts of
life-learning from lessons
of life's victims and
didactic poems 'cos man
of fame I intend to be for
I bear the name Bob.
I-lost my poetic gift at a
stage but recovered it in
poetrysoup for invisible
entities say a
lesser being I shall be,but
another encourages me
to move on,for great is
one who comes out of
the shackles of life
undeterred for this is who
I am.
Name: Ifeanyi Bob
Ekechukwu.
Date:24-10-2013.

Dimly lit, I sit
in a Mexican kitchen
near the Tropic of Cancer.
A TV is tuned
to inane noises;
dogs at my feet,
oranges in a bowl
on a table:
a specific place and time.
And I am dreaming --
dreaming of Louisiana
in twilight hours --
dreaming of short winter days and
summer's green, bright mornings.
Country time, mostly empty,
was quiet, seldom interrupted
by human utterance;
but my busy brain
was full of fantasy
and subterfuge.
The world was new, was big,
was yet to be explored;
possibilities seemed endless.
Oak and cypress,
willows, pines -- and magnolias --
were all around, and cane fields
stretched for miles.
School was a bus ride -- there and back --
and hours of new discoveries.
The bayous that had always been there
were there still.
Change was slow in coming
and childhood lasted long.
I dream now of Louisiana:
poignant vignettes... dreamy glimpses...
and all those slowly fading
recalled moments
of the past...

15 years old.
It was a brain tumor, they’d said.
Holding past the current;
undertow of reality slapping
my fragility cold –
(steel bars won’t hold water –
movement always finds its way)
O’, how the lies twist!
Twist like the dusty branches
on an old, gray apple,
holding appraising rooks
from another’s waking nightmare.
Suicide, they tell me now.
A menagerie of years too late.
Oh…and by the way,
he’s not your real father;
your real father was dead to you
the moment he found out.
This guy’s just The Black-Maker –
(mother stealer; innocence taker)
a mass of dark waiting to fall;
waiting to burrow beneath light skin
(so dark, even the sun lost hope)
exponentially surrendering -
stuck on repeat.
The temper of blood lost, melting
my thin ice –
can you sense the coiled, un-leashed?
Like a waking May snake
tasting the indifferent air for the first time
since snow;
out of its burrow, and striking
its own skin ripe;
bleeding my vinegar still, sweet;
distilling a wicked brew (a science
experiment gone bad)
until the steel breaks
and every molecule of unoccupied space
is reduced to motes; unseen in the shadow
of its dying host.
A ticking time-bomb:
Sex, drugs, drinking – all manner
of loose cutting;
memory re-making, recapturing of
her long dead ghost, exhumed
from its protective bed
of lies –
and how that double edge twists
to this day.
Only now, it twists in wind through
my reclaimed space.
The sign across my chest reading,
OCCUPIED, instead of
SPACE FOR RENT.
37 years old.
It was suicide. This I know –
lies all told. But,
it was also her greatest gift –
her young life tolled; my life,
paid in full through the tears of time.
(dried up like an ancient river still baring
the scars of once was…)
From one parent to their child,
the gift of life remains the greatest gift
of all.
Nothing was ever taken from me.
No…only given -
un-leashed; un-bound; un-coiled.
My own struggle baring weight -
her wrongs come to my light -
I am the Light-Maker now,
and as straight and long as the journey
from one star to the next; and the next, and on.
I have stopped fighting my past and embraced it.
Thanks to all, (life/her/them/Him)
I am learned and open as renewed hope
from the heart
of God.
*For Michael's Un-Twisted contest. This is part of how I un-tiwsted what came to me twisted;
how I un-did my knots, and gave thanks for those knots instead of trying to fight them.

~ Letter to Mother ~ If I die before I wake
To my mother I would write
I never understood why you were so cruel ~ or why you had an iron fist rule
Why you beat me till black and blue ~ for something as simple as not tying my shoe
Why you were always enraged ~ why interest in my life you never engaged
Why did I get the worst of the abuse ~ when I was the best behaved and did as
you told me to
Why did you fight to win custody back ~ when maternal instincts you knew you
lacked
Your torment instilled in me ~ fear, depression, insecurities, and anxiety
This is the reason my judgment was flawed ~ mother you should be appalled
Even though it was horrific living through this ~ I love you and for your pain to be
healed I always wished
Even though my body will be gone ~ Even though you may morn
My heart is no longer scorn ~ I thank you for being born
My life resulted in the lives of more ~ Lives that I love and adore
This is the greatest gift you have given me ~ I don’t want or ask for more... I'm FREE
Lay

When I was five, I should have told my
mom that one of my friends called her
ugly. Maybe I would have
stopped being overly
sensitive at school
if guys didn't
look at me
or like
me.
I never realized how much her
words hurt me when she first said them.
Remembering how I used
to treat her when we played
at school and made sure
others knew why
truly makes
it quite
clear.
As we got older, I don't think she
even remembered saying it.
I included my closest
friends in a fight she was
oblivious of.
Telling her it
hurt would have
been the
best.

Walayee Who?
She's just thirty two
Wasn't trained to write in school
In her life she wears many shoes
Challenges just about any rule
Has 2 daughters and they are cool
Divorced once; no longer a fool
Inspiration for writing is to reveal the cruel
Her mission is to defend
She tells her story for your children
To open eyes to this enormous sin
To protect them from predatory men
The one's who rape and abuse them
This is real no one can pretend
When your child speaks, listen
They may be afraid to mention
So Please Please Pay Attention
Lay

On his shoulders
he carried
me,
when I tarried
when young.
He’d huddle me close,
and tell me the stories
Of how he grew up.
The things that he loved to do most.
Correct me when wrong.
And punish when bad he’d
Protect me from harm,
And when ill -
He’d wrap me in blankets,
And nurse by my side,
Till one day I grew up
And rebelled.
In your footsteps
You wanted
Me to have followed,
And done everything by your will.
But I’m my own person,
So listen to my side,
Are you in with me this time
Or still…?
Do you not answer?
Hear my pain call?
As I struggle to find my own way.
Is it time I departed?
Is it time that I learnt?
To have my own will
What d’you say?
Well I’m sorry
You’re silent.
You’re so disappointed.
But I know that you feel
I am wrong.
I can’t take this no longer
I’m so full of anger.
To my misery
Is there no end?
Well I’m out!...
Do you hear me?...
Dont misunderstand me.
I’m grateful for what you have done.
But for now
I don’t know me.
I don’t know the answers.
I’ll pack up my things and be gone!
But then
you say to me
Just listen – child listen,
One day
you will settle
You’ll see.
You’ll be married.
With children.
Putting food on the table -
Working hard to bring in the dough
Then you’ll think of these words
Just follow my footsteps
That way you will
Come to no harm.
And the voice in your head
Will silently say -
I told you,
Was right all along.
I’m your father
I taught you to follow
my footsteps;
To know what is right and
Whats wrong!

"I shall be telling this with a sigh"
Robert Frost
My thoughts they roil like waters dark
in the abyss of blackest night
with memories of mother’s book marks
of Longfellow read by lamp light.
She called in the room around me
the patter of other small feet,
her gentle voice fetched angels
Oh, rhymes how they astounded me
like lullabies soft and so sweet.
All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel
Maxine, my queen read Tennyson
and the Charge of the Light Brigade
a little girl dreamt of caissons
roll and thunderous cannonades.
To be so brave the small child mused
mother’s small, precious, heroine
what would it take to stand so strong
without father, and not confused
What words where the linchpin
to right mother’s tell tale wrong.
Such sad inspiration*.. mother
but a champion you were born.
You’re adored before all others
yet, tears bring memories forlorn.
So, dreams stream on of Mother Goose
three kittens and their mittens.
My visions of your fleeting smile
return almost every night,
and your spirit comforts, lightens
sights, if only for a little while.

Man, I remember the thrumming of that last bell of the school year.....
Like a prisoner being furloughed into the warm sun, buzzing of grasshoppers.
Field stickers burrowing into your ankles, joyfully, while you take the wrong way/long way
back.
The sound of whispering gold as your armplane wings dislodge future assaulters of ankles.
I always liked sighs in the summer.....those sweet drones were the tones of freedom.
In the distance you hear Shirley scream as Brad tells EVERYBODY she likes Ralph...
You knew you should be gettin' home, but, confound it, this one brief moment was yours.
Eternal.
There was a sound, like a shell to the ear, of all you had learned, escaping as if under
pressure.
To thwart it was to stop a tsunami with an umbrella.....ineffectual....unnoticed.
But, also vacant, was common sense; probably why I went Jake's way that day....
Oh, he was there, lurking...lying in wait for my almost clock-work arrival.
Many a day I had screamed a million insults at him as he chased me like Satan,
Hoping "today" wasn't the day he caught up with me.
His exhalations never sounded labored, as if he was letting me get ahead.....
But not today!!!!!.....I JUMP......He LUNGES......and his teeth gain purchase on my seat!!!!
However, I escape....My bottom, that much cooler than it was before and will probably be
later!
........................
.........
.....
...
Home.......... you see mom in the kitchen, drinking sun tea and waiting for you to arrive....
"So, How was school?"..."Uh, fine, I guess." "What did you learn today?"......."Uh, to never
underestimate the value of Gym Class!!"......"Well," she says, "if you took home economics,
you'd be able to fix up your pants before Dad gets home and sees your underwear!!"......
Parents NEVER respect an Adventurer's near-fatal exploits!!!

It had only been a few days
Still unfamiliar with my grief, (it was my first time, you see...)
I was such a novice to the proper routine
Of condolences, phone calls, and flowers
Pity in the air, ...a pat on my hair, and those hesitant smiles...
Neighbors....even those we hardly knew,
Reaching out with assorted casseroles
Devils food cake, and strange jello salads....food of all kinds
...To me, this ritual, seemed obscene,
Who would eat?....How anyone could?
Our home intruded, invaded, shaded in grey
This odd assortment of long faced people milling about
I wanted to shout...."Leave us alone!" (I just wanted her home.....)
And though I was numb, her voice filled the room
"I know you'll be strong"...
But this is so wrong...
I needed to weep, please let me sleep....please make this a dream...
Aunt Bea, who could not stop crying
Uncle Russ, pacing and sighing
Aunt Delores, tough as nails, taking command...
as if our house had taken a military stand...
Dad, who had been swallowed up by his own tomb of loss
No place to lean....for this girl of sixteen, in a world that was tossed....
Into that black horrible space....It only happened to others
It couldn't be me....it couldn't be her ...I needed my mother...
I felt so alone, how could I be strong??
How hard to say "Thanks"...for those kind acts intended
I was too young to know, a first step to mending
comes bearing small gifts.....comes in disguise
...just one small thing to grasp....
People are kind, as they spin their cocoons
They need to lend hands, they need to do good
But time heals all wounds..
And I've learned and I've lost,
How steep is the price and the cost
Of living and dying, of loving and striving...
It's the circle of life
Her words were a song....and I still hear the sound
I understand better now, ..and I've learned to be strong...
Today I have baked
Have made the best that I could
I'll tap on the door, in my own neighborhood...
When words aren't enough...I will bring them some food
I'll extend a kind hand, a shoulder to lend,....I will make mother proud
I can be strong...when the world has gone wrong
All the things that I should
When intentions are good.
~ ~

I've passed this way many a day
and wondered as I strayed;
Who had opened, what had filled
the gap within the crib's dark bay.
The opening small in the wall
at once so spare yet alluring
with tilted sides and gap toothed maw
which now held field mice burrowing.
The boards of red once formed a bed
for stored feed of golden maze,
these cedar shingles had sheltered
the abundance of by gone days.
The farm's gone now, no fields, no cow
long past its youth, its heyday
housing only bitter sweet and
memories of corn cobs and play.
Yet, here it stands, as I go by,
and so quietly it brings to me;
the lingering joy of laughter
the faint echoes of jubilee.

Where have all the cabooses gone,
Red slab sided, cupola, curved roof,
Friendly stove pipe hat, every kids wish,
Moveable tree house clickety-clacking
Cozily rolling across America
Snappy visored cap, brass buttons
Blue coat, wind whipped leaning out
One hand on the stanchion
Waving an all clear lantern, nights shining arc
Then crack, all along the line each
Snapping to attention each car in its turn
With a rattle rattle, huff and puff
Away it roars into childhood.
A memory of something important,
Those years gone like borrowed money
And now the dollars have all been spent
But the secret stays in the heart An ancient fondness now focused
A connection across the years
Tears and a smile for that railroad boy

Mom sure loved willow switches.
Those willows never wore out,
she’d make them sing forever.
Worse, I had to pick them out.
I needed to change some things,
mom did not ask for this mess.
Time for me to grow up some.
My first switch, too small.
At thirteen and six foot tall,
I then tore down half a tree.
“No more whippings for me mom!”
Mom cried tears of joy!
For the TREES EVERYWHERE contest entered by John Trusty. A true story
and I made sure to never make my mother cry again.

The knowledge that I am
is not.
Like an hallucination,
I am
nothing more than
a name --
a designation of something
that is
yet to be.
The future must unfold
all that
I become in later years.
For now,
I know not why,
or, perhaps,
even that I do
exist....

in the absence of the moon
in tremulous steps
(treading cautious
with wounded bare feet)
footsteps echo down a corridor
resounding….
a reverberation of agitation
beyond the paint of alabaster
(white washed mask)
lay a bleak black spider crawl
slightly insidious…..
inside of tribulation
In blushing pink magnolias
see innocence slowly blossom
fresh faced and eager
like the face of a ripe peach
big eyed and blinking
in the devastation
see it silently fade
ripped from its skin
muffled screams
and half torn cores
steel tipped lashes…..
a cyclone tirade
unbeknownst and nocuous
winding downward
a taunting spiral
in a moment of recognition
slumber the eyes of him
clouds are always higher
than one clamoring soul
and small hands can reach
redemption hunted….
a never ending journey
swirling in a dry desert wind
where is the ghost of a half crescent
in the tumbleweeds and cactus....?
a quizzical quest for identification
A banshee wail of “who am I”
beyond the blinding rays
that shred these seeking orbs
if only roses still unfold
despite the mangle
of a steel toed tread
a thoughtless stomp
on delicate petals that weep
can there be restitution?
in the absence of the moon
in tremulous steps
(treading cautious
with wounded bare feet)
footsteps echo down a corridor…..

There are smells and sights and tastes which always remind
of Grandma with her rows of flowers bright,
the red of poppy the gladiolas white, the blue of spring violets vain
the scent of lilacs in the air and pine needles in the mix.
Sometimes too, the memory of her sweet breath does rise
of Black Jack gum or peppermint and all those summer times.
The search for new spout dandelions the mushrooms other times
And summer’s end brought black blue teeth a blueberry’s remind.
We’d dig for bait with cans of tin, Idella, grandma mine, and rise
from ‘neath the patched quilts of calico so bright.
By chance to fish within the stream, trout in our breakfast mix
along with silly shaped pancakes so placed on china vain.
The beauty of her sky blues eyes never was so vain
that wisps of salt and pepper hair gave time
its only claim. To rise like yeast a child within this mix
to hear a bark of terrier and feel Babe’s tongue remind
of childhood days a Grandma’s house. Idella our bright
find. Take those blessed tender hands and rise
Touch childhood cheek like dough of white and rise
have no dark dwelling thoughts of blue blood in the vein
the thinness of her fragile skin the dimmed light so bright
just remember love full of the better times.
And with the scent of venison and sizzling pans remind
laced with home made butter, fried onions in the mix.
How had Idella’s loveliness from German bloodlines mixed
together with the stalwart Grandpa Trussell’s rise
to birth the lively bunch of child my Mom’s remind?
When in the dark of night the rush of red rolls through my vein
mind light flies and flickers like the candle flame of time
and I return on winged horse within a dream so bright.
Smell the wood smoke from the stove caste iron bright.
See the siblings teasing cat and dog within the mix.
The mantle clock’s brass pendulum sings in time.
Hear the winter wind blow through the rafter’s rise
like tucked in chicks the storms blew all in vain,
now only grand kids live these tales and do remind.
Always in the darkest times I think of my Idella bright
and Gram reminds me of both joy and sorrow’s mix
soon like the wind on weathervane I'll rise to heaven and her kiss.

There’s a lazy old river in the back of my mind
Our family would visit from time to time,
Where the waters ran gently through countless miles
Of live oaks and woodlands, placid and wild.
Wherein one such place I still can trace
The vestiges of those days
Filled with watermelon fights and blue herons in flight
And mom’s apple pie, homemade.
With wheelbarrow races and so many faces
Of friends long gone like the rain…
Cool, clean and like a dream
Disappearing, just like they came.
Playing Tarzan and fly from a rope we would tie
On a limb hanging over the bank
With a loud whooping yell and smile as we fell
Into old man river and sank.
Down to the bottom and touched the sand
And popped back up once more
Laughing like crazy ‘till the sun set lazy
Ending our day by the shore.
With our dad and a book and that one special look
That it’s time to start saying our prayers
Of goodness and grace and thanks for that place
Where my heart still lingers back there.

Oh how fine it might be,
But for a day or two,
To be an airling again;
Clean of conscience
And innocent of what hurts
I may have caused,
For I'd never yet then
Intended any of them.
Age is wisdom, true.
But it's also a tapestry of little guilts,
Amid still littler expiations.

Chasing your tail forever like a dog
Into the forest, confusion of the fog
A door that’s locked, without a key
Asleep you found it, woke not to be
Where is this tail, where did it go?
Pondering on my knees, to and fro
As a young lad, kept in my pocket
Never will leave, stuck like a locket
Trying to hold on, losing a tight grip
Some just let go, abandon the ship
Children don’t seek it, too abundant
Adults will tell you, it can be funded
Look at children, exuding it affably
As you age, begins to fade rapidly
Replaced with things, can’t add up
Shows in spurts, then soon erupts
That impalpable tail, where’d it go?
Ask a child, even they don’t know
Innocence of fooling as a wee one
Priceless, like the shine of the sun.

Could a scythe cut a slice
from a sycamore tree?
If a bird had no feathers
what bird would it be?
If a square had three corners
would it still be a square?
Will your curls always swirl
if you tug at your hair?
My curls will always swirl
For questions make them so
You will question me ‘why’
when my answer is ‘no’.
If I answer you ‘yes’
You will question with ‘how’
If a tree could grow knowledge
I'd reach for a bough.

You were always honest
unfortunately it didn't extend to yourself
Regal persona was never exceeded by your accomplishments
If only you were as important as you thought others thought you were
Some bring joy when they enter a room
no one would ever accuse you of that
Leaving was always the best gift you could offer
Being you could not have been easy
No friends to speak of
accept one
maybe not even him
I think he froze in your shadow
He has begun to thaw in your absence
Strangely I miss you
Not entirely sure why
Do I in some weird way owe you for my success?
Without you I would not have been born
You are gone
Certainly not forgotten
The scars are my reminder
A multitude of memories mark my soul
Not your typical father son fare
Norman Rockwell wouldn't paint our picture
I wish I could remember happier times
some wishes don't come true
Eventually our nightmare came to an end
You gave us the gift of leaving
Am I evil for being Thankful?
You died alone
Should I have flown to be by your side?
Perhaps
Somehow it seems fitting you parted in this way
If I had come I may not have been able to hide my relief
Now we both have rest
Scars Left Behind Contest
By: Richard Lamoureux

I was with you until I was ten, then the Lord came and took your hand;
Goodbye was hard to say, I was so young when you went away.
Time went on, abuse and pain, all my sunshine turned to rain;
My father's house was dark and cold, loneliness consumed my soul.
Then one day as I walked home, someone whispered, "your not alone!"
I stopped to look about, nothing there so I went on.
Once at my door, fear gripped my heart;
I could see my step-mom was drinking, there was a darkness, coming, creeping!
I hurried past her to my room, she followed me with doom and gloom;
then I saw what was in her hand, my heart sank like shifting sand!
She held a gun close to her side, there was a gleam of glee deep in her eyes;
she lifted it up to my head, my eyes on hers in deep concern,I collapsed upon my bed.
There was no sound, no light, no shout, but I could feel angels of God all about;
My heart it trembled deep inside, as my fear turned to courage, I could not hide.
I sat and faced death that day, and Jesus held me all the way;
Soon she dropped the gun back down, she couldn't do it, and without a sound;
she turned and crept away!
I was twelve years old that day!

.
Once when heading up VBS
Money was very scarce
Funding deficient
Sanity chances gone
Survival questionable
While looking for something fun to entertain
On a shelf sitting quietly
A half-gallon jug
Which contained magic elixir_slimmy_soapy
Bubbles trapped in plastic
All this mixture needed was two teenage girls
Who had oversupply of energy
To create bubbles in multiples
These bubbles for little ones to chase_burst
And want more to chase again
Many bubble memories of happiness
As those little ones did play
But the best memory is of those teenage helpers
Laughing as bubbles they did make
In honor of Debbie Guzzi's Bubbles contest...

Raw awareness of
Countless perceptions
Cloaked in bravado; steeped in deception
Attached by chance, or perhaps choice
To fickle company with humiliation’s voice
Constant requirement for assimilation
Or face the consequences of social annihilation
Monumental effort to discover within
Someone strong enough to survive inside this thin skin
Ugly and cruel before it happens to you
Watching the pack circle the unfortunate few,
Who, now looking back were stronger than most
And the alpha wolf leaders have all become ghosts
But what did we know then of altruism?
Walking around like open sores with clouded vision
Running the gauntlet of harsh adolescence
With fervor and passion not to be rivaled since
Heady memories only; both wicked and splendid
A secret locked time, into jaded minds blended
Carefully, in age we tread; to not be exposed
For the doorways back to our teenage wasteland
All have been closed

Am I ~ a good mother
Does she ~ feel how much I love her
Can she ~ see the sacrifices I make
Will she ~ understand they are in her namesake
While my mind and heart were at war
My “hero” ~ had something in store
She ~ rescued me once more
With a phone call from 700 miles away
Enthusiasm in her voice ~ she went on to say
“Guess what mommy; I have to write an essay”
Topic:”The most important woman in my life”
Her words gently removed depressions knife
She ~ pulled my spirit from home in the dark afterlife
She ~ continued with a few questions for me
Answers she already had ~ all I did was agree
If only she knew ~ how much doubt filled my mind
“Am I a good mother” ~ how could I be so blind
Is it wrong for me to be so far away
Will it hinder the bond we’ve held since her “birth” day
Without being burdened with question nor task
She ~ rescued and reassured me in a flash
Now when in doubt or I can’t find my way
I pray my guardian angel answers ~ as she did today
Down on my knees I will look to the sky
Thank God for the blessing in her eyes
Thank him for hearing my cries
And for delivering my reply
“Mommy listen as I tell you why”
Lay

.
Safe secure
Back seat_car not on tour
Just to church on Sunday night_safe road
One drunk driver pushing another car not towed
Crossed center line even though had his whole side road
Daddy went over tried to stay clear
Car hit_ dad couldn't clear steer
Now Bridge Fear

As dad and I trod over the newly tilled fields
Feeling warmed by the prospect of the day’s work
His eyes aglow within those granite features
I followed his sight to that field beyond as yet unsown
He called it virgin soil or heavens harrowed field
So long ago as I stood in awe of the man and his earth
So clearly I recall the rich scent of tilled broken ground
How the green corn melted with the sky horizons away
His powerful leathered hands how gentle they were
That chiseled brow that could see into tomorrow
He told me the one thing to always remember
A man is only as good as the work he puts into the world
Then that mythical man from my childhood, my dad
Pulled me up into the saddle and whooped at the horse
We headed back to the barn to finish the day’s toiling
Now all these years later I understand his gift of that night
As I stand with my son on the old harrowed pastures…

Looking Out My Bedroom Window
When I was young I dreamt of places to go.
I looked out my window.
I could swing or slide,
Or climb the Mimoso
How will I go?
I looked out my window.
I could walk or ride my bike,
Or take a limo.
Where will I go?
I looked out my window.
I could stay inside,
Or follow where the rivers flow.
Now I must go.
I looked out my window.
I will do as I like,
My dreams will follow.

20.12.2007
A DOLL'S CONFESSION
I am a doll -
A doll from your corner
You used to love me
And you used to care
Now you've grown old -
All good times are over
But to say I'm lonely
Would still be unfair
I have hot tears to keep me company
My face - stigmatized
- A motionless smile!
I've prayed for so long...
Yes, it may seem funny -
A doll praying that
G*d would let her cry...

Listen to what i'm saying, and not just what you hear
Don't jump to conclusions, and freeze me in a stare.
You think you know what's going on, but truth is you don't
So you can't tell me what i'm doing wrong, because who REALLY knows?
For all that matters, I could be seriously hurt
But if i said anything, you wouldn't understand at first.
You tell me what I'm thinking, and why I act the way I do,
Since when do you read minds? Thinking your eyes see through?
Well this isn't about what you see, or even what you hear
This is about listening to what I'm saying, but you couldn't care.
I'm telling you this now, just to be treated fair
Listen to what I'm saying, and not just what you hear.

I am a poet writing of my pain
I am a person living a life of shame
I am your daughter, hiding my depression
I am your sister, striving to make a great impression
I am your friend acting like I'm fine
I am a dreamer, wishing this life, wasn't mine
I am a girl who struggles with suicide
I am a teenager, pushing her tears aside
Side note: (Writing for other ladies out there, not so much myself, so don't worry about me)

I cannot get into heaven
God I have tried!
Suicide is a double edge sword
Especially when you survive!
Walking the streets at night
Dazed and confused
Longing to be loved
Wondering...
When is Mum, coming for me?
"Does she still love me?"
"Does she still care?"
"Does she still think of me?"
"Does she wonder, where I am?"
I want her to come find me
I want her to say she 'loves me’
I want her to comfort me
I want her to take me home
And keep me safe
And not forget hat I exist
Like the way she treats me now
I wish God
Could make my Mum
Magically appear
Making this hellish nightmare
On the street
Disappear!
“Send my Mum please!”
So, all this can end!
Before this last ray of hope
Diminishes for good!
I don’t want to become
The walking dead
Forever forgotten as if
I was never born!
For this is the cruel, harsh reality
Of living life, feeling unloved
Uncared for, abandoned,
Left to fend for my own
A dangerous killer inside me
Eating away, at my soul
Something, no one can see
As I suffer in silence
My insides crippling!
Lost, alone and frightened
Weeping on a dirty
Graffiti park bench
Dirty tears
Rolling down my cheeks
Stuffing newspapers under my jumper
To keep myself warm
“What am I going to do?”
“Will I make it through the night?”
“Will I get raped and beaten?”
"Will I be left for dead?”
“Will I survive
To see another day?
“Is my life worth living?”
Please God, I beg of you
Have mercy now
Please show me the way!

the life that you have now
is the one you will cry over when you are removed from it
it happens that many lives are taken
away from the now and when we lived
the can’t grow fast enough is bicycle hard to catch up to
crispy in leaves, and, bare under the bark

Where have all the cabooses gone,
Red slab sided, cupola, curved roof,
Friendly stove pipe hat, every kids wish,
Moveable tree house clickety-clacking
Cozily rolling across America
Snappy visored cap, brass buttons
Blue coat, wind whipped leaning out
One hand on the stanchion
Waving an all clear lantern, nights shining arc
Then crack, all along the line each
Snapping to attention each car in its turn
With a rattle rattle, huff and puff
Away it roars into childhood.
A memory of something important,
An ancient fondness now focused
A connection across the years
A tear, a smile for that railroading boy
Those years lavished, gone borrowed money
And now the dollars have all been spent
But the secret stays in the heart of hearts.
Oh, I wish to go back to those days,
To see the world for the first time,
In all its glory, the glory of a life yet to live.

The Fault Was Your Own
With these words,I wonder if I shall break your spirit.
With these stones and stick,I plan to break you.
With this bloody revenge,I will have you wholesomely.
As you slap away m hand let's say our fear is only great toward me yet your cowardice actions are full of jokes
You nothing more then an eye sore,To prideful to even realize that'll you'll fall break before the day is done.
Tick tock,Tick tock. Your clocks running thin,for if I a prideful beast breaks I'll be sure to bring you with me.
Ha,such a dirty creature do you think you can hold me using such unpleasant scene from a forgotten past?
Of course not these be not your past but you near future,Repeating everything over and over until it to much to handle.
Turn around and drink your poison. Even though your no more child you seem to carry a burden not you own,I will have no regrets ending you pitiful life.
How about I become you poison and let me end you futile life.
I will decided how I die and not let some stranger decided who I am.For that purpose I wield this sword.
What a foolish person,to wield a sword for the person you love is what it is and not for the sake of some unseen future.How can you possible care of a future when you stick yourself in a shell and refuse to leave a past that has forgotten you already.
When will you stop with your nonsense.I have no past therefore my future is chained up,perfectly awaiting me.Let me repeat your punishment so you know.
As this we recite the lines as one.
With these words,we will break out spirits.
With steels and spears,we shall break our body's.
With these bloody revenge,we have betrayed each other for the last time.

If Silence Was a Language
If silence was a language you could understand,
You would hear me shouting, screaming, announcing for all to hear,
‘I LOVE YOU!!!’
If silence was a language you could understand,
You would hear me praising you, declaring with each silent look,
‘I’m proud of you’, ‘I trust you’, ‘I believe in you.’
If silence was a language that you could understand,
You would hear me cheering you on, as with each new experience or season,
‘You can do this’, ‘You’ve got what it takes’, ‘I’m here if you need me.’
If silence was a language you were fluent in,
You’d catch the nuanced meaning, the subtle expression of respect,
Behind each silent day that goes by, so as not to distract with clumsy words.
But, just maybe, silence IS a language you can understand,
And you DO hear me, loving you, praising you, respecting you,
Trusting and believing in you, cheering you on and standing behind you.
Of course, silence is a language so often misunderstood or completely overlooked,
Drowned out by the clamor of busy lives, of many words,
Or whirling thoughts that make it hard to listen.
So, I risk a bit of repetition by stating plainly, in words that even I can understand,
That you are precious in my eyes, a jewel of great worth,
A daughter that makes me so very proud to be called your father. I love you!

Some say, the tale's not told
of maidens fair and men, so cold,
of how the dear and sweetest joy
falls victim to the lustful boy
needs telling
Some say, the ways of life are harsh
and maidens made to bare the cross,
and lustful boys are not right taught
that they are raised up and not caught
needs telling
Some say, the girl child or the boy,
when left unguarded, luscious toy,
are meant as morsels, so deployed
and as sacrificial lambs destroyed
needs dispelling
Some blame the lamb, say ploy
though insight would scream, lame decoy,
and insist their innocent act merely coy
so say societies naughty boys
needs dispelling
Some say, the rape a rite of passage,
so the multitude of perverts say.
The Universe seeking balance says
THE DOGS WILL HAVE THEIR DAY.

A little boy and an ant became great friends one day.
But how to live drew them apart, and this is how they ran astray:
In the Ant’s heart was strict authority and constant work each day.
Why wasn’t the boy following someone, collecting for the food array?
The ant would always build everything in exactly the same proven way.
The anthill was underground and protected them perfectly every day.
Not adding to the hive was a crime, no one would ever think to display.
He knew every thing would be perfect, if everyone did their job and obeyed.
But the boy wanted to build bridges and trestles, just like his Dad, each day.
All of them out in the open, none of them under ground or hidden away.
And inventiveness came with the notice, of new and exciting things in daily play.
His life was really cool, not boring, as standing in a line would convey.
He’d invent, and ponder, and build in exciting, new ways, to fit each new byway.
Quick minded, and resilient he’d build, many fascinating and unique causeways.
The boy and the ant eventually went away, not happy with how the other lived.
They thought the other shortsighted and scorned, at what the other could give.
But they went away without realizing, how very similar were their lives.
For each would spend their time endeavoring to help others with their drive.
But understanding is a harder concept than building a bridge or storing food.
It takes a true gift to see the world as others do…
The moral to this story is really quite easy for all to see…
You can’t expect others to live their lives the way you want them to be.
Here, each was adding to their different world, only they could see.
While one was building for a smaller, singular hive…
The other was building for the hive of mankind.

Down the long graveled road
Flanked by woods with filtered sun
Evening sun signaling me to abode
Where the bitterweed blooms,I run
Join family outside in the twilight
With the moon rising in the East
Offering some soft evening light
Fireflies begin to emerge_beast
Their glow like small little suns
Flashing on and off, on and off
Catch them_place in jar motor runs
On these nights watermelon sliced
Homemade ice cream entombed
In store bought ice with rock salt
Both bought at the freezer store
Where huge chunks of ice stored
Mostly about these times memories
Of you how you could produce
Much out of nothing and fun
When there was none__
What a character you were
Laughter and joy bubbling over
Then bam angry explosions
Never knew which would come
I always wonder what was wrong
Now I know that you probably
Had some type of mental illness
Probably some chemical imbalance
Sad _for you could have been
Some very special person
Had times been different
Someday we will understand

Tender petals of youth wither and fade
Stinging the soul with regret
Sharp penance of years
A yearning too deep for tears
A token of repentance
Times short pleasure to take
Youthful mirth vanishes away

Where'd you put the body
When the deed was done?
What'd you have to say
To lure him in?
What kinda lies didja have to tell
A tale syrupy-sweet?
Was there any guilt at all
As you held his little hand?
Did you even start to stall
Before spilling blood on the sand?
You know you took him down
Probably Better you than them
You swear it's a mercy
As you pull the blade
But that story's getting thin
So there's blood on your hands
And now you're a man
Now what's your plan?
Child killer.....
You start out your new life
With some debt and a good wife
Trying to never think of him
Memories, you can hide
But dreams sneak outside
And play with your inner mind
By the time you quit school
Tired of being a tool
Ten years had slid aside
You can still hear his screams
In your tattered, ragged dreams
Echos that never died
You know you took him down
Probably Better you than them
You swear it's a mercy
As you pull the blade
But that story's getting thin
So there's blood on your hands
And now you're a man
Now what's your plan?
Child killer.....
Why'd ya do it?.... Where'd ya lay him?.... Why'd you lie?
Who's the bad guy?.... Who's the victim?.... Who's this image in the mirror?
You know you took him down
Probably Better you than them
You swear it's a mercy
As you pull the blade
But that story's getting thin
So there's blood on your hands
And now you're a man
Now what's your plan?
Child killer.....
The world doesn't leave us much choice
We have to kill our inner-child's voice
Or they will do it for us
I want to understand
Is it better by my hand
Than to have someone do it for me?

A single branch, clawed and pecked, fickle and straining,
Lonely Nestling and father, paw and peck at their home
Lonely branch, spasms in the wind
Nestling and father paw and peck, yearn and whimper
These Flightless Birds, on a fickle branch
Young nestling skitters to the branch’s edge
Peers over on to sightless depths
Shivers, ruffles withered feathers
Spreads tousled wings
And loosens fast aging down
Stretches till overgrown talons graze the edge
Like endless days before, Craning aching neck
Eyes devouring the scene with a famished hunger-
And whimpers
Turns to father and warbles in longing,
A sight that speaks of flight
Dreams of swimming amidst the clouds
To leave
-slightest breeze carries words...
to live
The father, neck cramped, tilted, eyes swivelling to and fro
Cooing and cawing, talons pawing
A slight breeze, decrepit feathers hauled away in swarms
A forlorn sight that reeks of abandoned dreams
Warbling, cooing and cawing, pleading and pawing
Pecking in apprehension, neck swivelling to and fro in exasperation
“To leave father! To stretch my wings
Lift from them the smell of rot and loss
To fly father”
“To fall! To fall, and to die!”
-Wind whispers,
To fall, to soar, and to live
Nestling shuffles to the edge,
Settles down amidst aching joints and a teetering ledge
Peers down onto sightless depths
-they bellow to him
To fall, to fly, to Die!
Fall and flutter amidst a shower of feathers
Cramping wings crooked and futile
To swirl into freedom carried by the stench of inevitability
To fall, to fly, to die
Little Nestling whimpers, nothing so glorious about death
nothing so glorious without flight...
Whimpers, shuffles forward, talons pricking oblivion
Ruffles feathers, settles down
Nestling wavers, branch bending
Rotting down tickles his beak, claws dig deeper into branch
Eyes feasting on sightless depths
Endless fears...
They scream to him
To sit, to dream to fly...
To sit, to dream of revitalized wings
Stretching across the sky, an unveiling of freedom
The shattering of chains every morning, with a stretch of wings
The exercise of freedom
to sit and dream
to live
to sit at the edge of that tottering branch
creaking and bending under a restless and aging body
peering over into the sky, where fickle wings will not go
and with dreams, with dreams lift off this branch
and fly, where body cannot
and live

It is...within the tiny things of early morning, that moment breaths alive, it is within the tiny whisperings, that a melodye plays...like the very dear and the antelope, play home on the range.
so goes the melodye of heart beat, that plays quietly the songs of soul,
here a rhyme is born of day-light coming so soon, through the early morning eyes of the moon-light, and the starry dreams of twilight's transitioning...
into the light of a love letter written to dawn.
soul to soul conversing, as in this love letter, the letters just join hands with the words and just march across the sky...and at the end of the rainbow, there be plenty of golden time,
way down deep on the inside,
...as the inspired choir, of a bumble bee, or a butterfly, starts to sing, like tiny things that live,
flower to flower,
blossom to bloom,
watered and deeply cared for...
O' Eden.
I say, deep beneath the surface of a wishing well...where the pennies lay,
I wish a sun-rise.

I remember the day I promised
What is a promise?
No one had ever kept the ones they made to me
They disappointed me and left me in tears
I wish I had the decency to say sorry
But to whom when I made the promise to myself
I promised never to let you into my heart
I did not want to be hurt at all
I swore to let our friendship flourish and discard all seeds of destruction
but sense was overcome by passion
Emotions eluded me and I went in not knowing that I was digging my own grave
I got consumed by the flames cause I was carried away
I looked into your eyes and could not see what there was but what I wanted to see
I broke the promise, broke my own heart
Betrayed myself, tricked myself, confessed my love and got a cold response
My heart's pieces are exploded to granules now
Now that the ticking bomb has finally exploded as the message was finally decoded
At the end of it all..... I ask what is love?

Picture this… Her 1st memory
Backward Garfield underwear and a t-shirt
A body beneath her completely bare
Jerry curls in his hair
Into his eyes she stared…
Picture this…
She jumps up as the front door opens
Scurries into the bathroom
Dark wood paneling all around her
No light; everything is a blur
A light fixture with a long string dangling
Metal tip on the end hanging…
Picture this…
A hook latch on the door
Clothes on the floor
She can’t reach… stands on the bleach
On her tippy toes
Frightened as the wind blows
She has to lock it; she must; but she froze…
Picture this…
She hears the voices
The tap on the bathroom door
She’s still trying… her body’s sore
The door opens and she asks
“Panties on backward?”
“Why aren’t you dressed; this place is a mess?”
She looks up; fear on her face
Her heart continues to race...
Picture this…
In he walks in only boxer shorts
"I told her she could get undressed.”
“Hurry up and go clean up your mess.”
She just stood there and didn’t say a word
Her voice was never ever heard
She was just 5 years old
Her secret she never told...
Lay

something we said so many times before
a crack in the door
a bit of a poet in all of us
red dust
sunset can’t catch
little bits o’memories
tickles under the tongue
a go-out and get you-one. . . of those
strip the rags off the rappers and sell them off for clothes
make math, in the mathematicians’ presuppose
fire sell it off to celeritas
one more big blink in the big goggles
golden fish missing in the adjustment of pince-nez
had to turn out that way
when all we did was
adjust

Escaped, I thought I had, but I was wrong
Ran, yes I did, thought I’d hid.. went along
Can I sing a lullaby?
Home was farce, felt life there TOO harsh
Oh, Mama don’t call me no trash
Hush little babe hush-a-bye
Can I sing a lullaby?
Man was he good that smooth talkin’ stud
Carmel candy apple brown love hit like a thud
Now, just look at me, says it ain’t his blood.
Can’t sing no damn lullaby
Can’t have it, damn, I won’t try!
Lord, oh Lord, will he have his blue eyes
Can I sing a lullaby?
Time to decide now, NO Mama ain’t here
Can I sing, can I try?
Thought I’d escaped, but got con’d, now stoned
But, I can do yah better little one on my own
Walk right out a here
There’s a cradle in the sky
Walk right on out
Baby, I sing ya, I’ll try.
I’ll do ya better than my Mama did me
Let ya live little one, LIVE and be my baby.
* This form is called Blues Poetry

The Canvas of Night
Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,
enthralled by the wonder of the cosmos,
my dreams take to the heavens in effervescent flight,
I bathe in the beauty, soaked in sublime delight,
absorbed in moments of bliss, transfixed by the serene sight.
Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,
and my being is infused with feelings of hope,
for even in darkness I find the sprinkled sugar of hope's light.
note: special thanks to one of my heroes, the late Dr. Carl Sagan, for making science accessible to younger me, many, many moons ago.

the courage to be different to buck the status quo
to be a child and disciple of the God that we all know
I know what it's like to be young, I remember my childhood
I remember all of those times, the bad and the good
I remember what it's like to simply stand out
to be different from everyone else who was about
I remember all the shame, the heartache and all the pain
I was tall for my age and always stood in the back of the line
from kindergarten to way beyond junior high
but not only was I tall but my family had little funds
I missed out on a lot of things after all was said and done
but I had the courage to be different for I had a dream
that despite my circumstances I would achieve great things
for God did single me out, He had me on His mind
He made a way when I could see no way and His path I did find
when I look at the youth of today, I see such anger and confusion
demonic tattoos, prison mentality, living on celebrity illusion
totally unaware that they're inviting danger
from unknown and familiar strangers
more concerned and worried about their appearance
not having the courage to try and be different
you don't need to run with a pack or hang out with a gang
God has a blessing just for you that He has arranged
yet He will allow the enemy to have a limited takeover
but He will eventually intercede with an ultimate makeover
just possess the courage and the faith to just believe
that the Lord God can do anything you can perceive
He burnt the meat, He burnt the wood, the rocks and the water in the trench
God can do the impossible if you believe He can make a difference
He will take you to another level, He will lift you up
His power is omnipotent and will fulfill your spiritual cup
for it's not about the world's window dressing
that the Lord God finds impressing
He cares not about your designer clothes nor the type of car you own
He cares only that you believe in His Son, the crown, the cross and the throne
He will overfill your treasure chest
just shut up and let Him do the rest
so raise your children to trust and believe in the Lord
to have the courage to be different and the balls to get on board
to march to the beat of a different drum
to know that with God victory has been won
to not have a spirit of fear
to know God is always near
that despite any failures, faults and all things disappointing
that the Lord God can still bless them with an anointing
for God has given them an inheritance
and the courage to be different

They said her time had come
No place to run
No place to hide
No time for fun
Just an empty vessel inside
Going through the motions
Numb.
Overwhelming emotions
They said her time had come
They said her time had come
Evil coats
She wants to run
She desires to have fun
Not understanding why she can not play
It is now the month of May
Another denial letter
Another denial to get better
They said her time had come
They said her time had come
Why such looks of sorrow?
She doesn’t understand
For there is always tomorrow
Evil coats
She takes a breath
Smelling all of the flowers
No place to hide
Now literally an empty vessel inside
They said her time had come
Her time had come
Her bald head
Just four years old
She looks to comfort from her mom and dad
Why do they look so sad?
Evil coats drag them away
She never got that chance to go out and play
Beep. Beep. Beeep.. Bleeeeep…..
The room floods with long white coats
Now to heaven this little girl floats
Her time had come
They said her time had come
She was just a name
No money, undeserving of fame
Easy for her to be denied
If only the suits had looked her in the eyes
Who is to blame?
Sent to the free clinic
Now dead at four
No insurance
Ooops! What a shame…
She could have been saved
Now two parents at her grave
Once a happy family, now destroyed
Because THEY said her time had come

Some things are lost along the line
Some things, beautiful and fine
Driving down the lone road to the stream in my hamlet
It’s like yesterday; like catching birds from their nest
I giggled as I drove by
Mothers breast feeding babies and singing lullaby
Naked boys rolling condemned tires, and
Ripped virgins with little cloths coverings, as attires
I giggled as I drove by. It’s just like yesterday
I remember Jerome and others as we gathered to play
There was the moonlight rendezvous
Where we all gathered, boys, and girls, all of us
There was the tales by the moonlight,
Ancestral heritages, sacrifices and the Lion’s might
The Lion’s might, yet he falls beneath the crafty tortoise
I still can hear the choruses; I hear my youthful voice
I loved folklore songs. Wars songs for strong sons
Let me try seeing if I can still sing one more;
Yes! I still can sing “Omalingwo”
Omalingwo, Omalingwo tee …… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo nwam…… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo dia …… Omalingwo
Nne nei di na Otutu-aja-o………..Omalingwo
Elikwue ma yu atuna ngwo ji ……Omalingwo
Ngwo, ngwo onye oma………….Omalingwo
My God, I feel new!
I can still sing it! Oh God I knew!
Omalingwo! Story of the child of a deprived mother
Jealous king’s wives over ready for murder
Murder and deprivation if that will give them a son
To sit on the king’s throne and shine forth like the sun
Story of good over evil. Omalingwo!
A deprived mother’s son.
I giggled as I drove along,
Remembering my tiny breasts, when they formed
And more fortunate girls laughing me to scorn
I remember these things till sadness beclouded me
I am fully grown now; nostalgia overshadow me
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
We can’t assemble again, just like broken pot in pieces
Oh! The Eve’s tempting apple of white collar jobs
I heard Jerome lived and then died in Jos
Killed by religious rioters with missions unjust.
I heard Nwasombia is a head dresser is Lagos
At 52 and still searching? Celibacy is obvious
I heard Nosike is in aviation, head of pilots
Even Chima is now in parliament in Cyprus
Chima, who spoke big English like “opprobrious”
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
No more gatherings, just like broken pot in pieces
Still driving along the lone road to the hamlet stream
Still thinking of beautiful things
The beautiful hamlet serene things.

Far beyond the edges of my reasoning a beautiful dream stood…waiting to come true
A dream erected up from cold dusty earth to the searing proximity of the sun
A star like dream, one built from hopes, aspirations and wishes
One whose light is drawn in and out from other stars
In its shadow lays the memory of soft spoken goodbyes and gentle kisses
I have led my life on the side lines too afraid to repeat your mistakes
See I learned the hard way what not to break
The shattered pieces of her heart lay across the living room floor
I have learned also then how to find my way across the battlefield of broken vows
Because growing up when you’re being pushed back and forth between
What you got and what you wanted makes you question
The truths that are your foundation
You start to see cracks in the, ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I miss you’s’
And notice the fractures between the, ‘You are my worlds” and the “I can’t live without you’s’
See this father is why my heart has no door even to let me in
Because I live in the consequence of these lessons that you teach
But father know that you are a dream among dreams
A dream whose quarter is rooted in reality
And whose walls I built an inch from fantasy
You are a dream whose ends touch the circumference of the hole that you left
Your razor blade edges cut the inside of my mind and shows up as scars in my personality
But you kept my world and heart from falling apart
Now you are gone…
Where he used to be, God please put a new morning and the fragrance of cherry blossoms in
Spring, let the sunshine in and with it reasons to smile, let me hear the laughter of my
soul and give me PEACE
Amazing, calming, PEACE where there was none.
Amen

My Favorite Classic T.V. Show
A classic t.v. show that I thought
was fun and silly.
Was one I watched as a child:
“The Beverly Hillbillies.”
There was Jed. Granny.
Jethro and Elly May too.
You just didn’t know what these
folks were going to do!
Granny would offer possum pie
or some “vittles.”
There was no tellin’ what she was
fixin’ in her griddle!
This family would “dance a jig.”
Or even “sing a song.
And then they would all gather around
“the cement pond.”
It didn’t seem to matter what was served
on the dinner plate.
Ole Jethro would never get full.
No matter how much he ate!
Elly loved to have her many
animals in the home.
No matter where she went.
She was never alone!
This Clampett family brought joy
through our t.v.
I still watch this show.
But just occasionally.
This classic show is from
a time in the past.
But it still brings good memories
that will always last!
By Jim Pemberton
"The Beverly Hillbillies"

Who...
what...
where....
Am I suppose to be here...now...
staring at a screen looking inwards...
wondering where I'm suppose to be.
Questioning my existence...
I know I'm here for something...WHAT???
WHY???
I wish I could put even a fingernail...
It just...
Hmmmm...still looking for confirmation
Any takers?

Our Love (written in the style of spoken word)
My world eclipsed itself in the shadow of your moon
In the fading of your breath, the gasp of your final death
blacked out to me was the image of your last re-birth
Visions of your glory blind to my infantile sight
I cried out to God "take me lord, for to take my light
is to leave me unto darkness."
Crippled and shamed I crawled to my side
and wept to feel the fingers of your memory
sweep my hair from my cheek
As a child I raged that all he left of you for me
was the ghost of a life losing vitality in time
The world was numb but for the pain
and I rolled in the evanescence of it
wrapped like a proud shawl of mourning
that in this right I would sacrifice
and pay dignitary to what I failed you in
If I could have died, I would have born your stripes
I would have carried your cross
and welcomed the nails home
that all I could have of you
was the agony
of your leaving...
My Mother I felt your tears too
as I felt in them in your fading
I felt the trails of your sorrow
as you wept for your baby
Just as your comforts were
love and despair in one
to me
(for how could I know your life lived in me)
your regrets were mine misery
then my comprehension of a Mothers love was foriegn.
Your presence drove me mad
Your death erased my dreams
and your life fed my memories.
Some where the blackness of years
numbned-greyed and I breathed
Some where in a moment I could not name
your presence gave me stregnth as I accepted
the world I now lived
But the majic of the moon faded,
the faith you gave me staled
the world spun because God commanded
but my heart beat because you breathed it
God is a jealous God, I whispered
Is my loss my punishment for loveing her the more?
The tears trickled to moisture and days cycled into years
and I listened to your whisper, feather kisses
tucking me to sleep, some where in the depths
of the self I did not know, you loved, you prayed
You wept for my loss and yours, but you loved
you held me at night when I longed for you
you cheered for my each new step
and when I first held my son I heard in my heart your first words to me
" My baby, My Baby'
so then I understood and gave them to him
In learning this new love of my life I began to understand
not your death, but your life, your love, and why you still
hold me and miss me as I miss you
but I hear you, I hear him
and I see my son I thank you both

Children dream of growing up fast
Focused on future, forgetting the past.
Wishfully thinking, days go slow
Blind to the breeze and trees that bow.
While jumping rope and climbing walls
Thinking: “Someday I’ll be big and tall.”
Just like parents and pilots that fly
Children want to reach up and touch the sky.
Now ever so gently, lay me down to rest
Praying for strength to do my best.
To make it one more grown-up day
Right here, where I once hoped I’d play.
Dancing in the rain again
Laughing wildly with family and friends.
Such a fleeting, immeasurable time ago was I
Merely a twinkle in someone’s eye.
Here today and gone the morrow
Bitter sweet life’s joys and sorrows.
Oh to be so young once more
And glad to finally close that door.
Reflecting back in a mirror’s gaze
Life is shorter than a pin-knife blade.

They used to frighten me
To be around old men
With their backs all bent
Their faces harsh to see
Time's ugly scars etched in
Freckled skin worn so thin.
Their white and thinning hair
And their extra large ears
They look sort of queer
With their bald heads a glare
And canes they use to stand
Held in old bony hands.
So, I spoke to one one day
And then while listening
With eyes a glistening
I was in utter dismay!
To hear the things he'd done
Of his battles lost and won!
We became real good friends
That wise old man and I
And long did I cry
When he met his end
Now, I'm no longer scared
Of old men everywhere!
It's a proper thing anyhow
That I no longer fear
When old men draw near
Because I live with one now
But we never speak, you see
Since that old man.... is me!
Timothy I. Brumley

Innocent childhood dreams
Full of lollipops and ice cream
Pretending to be a princess bride
Maintaining dignity and pride
Innocent childhood dreams
No longer filled with candy and flavors of ice cream
Slowly you begin to see
The triumphs and tragedies that are meant to be
Innocent childhood dreams
Replaced with ones that make me want to scream
My once protected heart
Now easily torn apart
A heart filled with passion, love and hate
Often questioning fate
So I can’t help but ponder this
Is it such a crime to wish…
To wish I could go back in time?

No One Told Me
A cement block is tied to my heart
Need a running start
At night my voice carries like a lark
Death’s arrow has hit its mark
My life is so dark
The side of the ocean is full of sharks
Some days I feel like such a tart
I used to be such a sweetheart
No one told me life would be so hard.

I can think of a time, when I was young.
I was growing up and having fun!
I remember how excited I was to have a t.v.
There were my brothers, my parents and me!
I remember at about the age of ten.
My dad thought going to the theater was a “sin.”
There were many things
that as young man…
I later began to see, and understand!
My parents shared God’s love the best they could!
And I read the Bible and was trying to be “good.”
I had my troubles… And problems bear...
But I had a family, and much prayer!
The truth of God’s word helped sustain me!
I knew how much he really loved me!
My parents, may seem like they were “old fashioned.”
They loved their kids! With a Godly compassion!
I’m thankful to be blessed with a Godly love!
My family was a treasure from heaven above!
I think about today, and how things go wrong.
Many families don’t seem to “get along!”
I pray for the blessing of God, to bind them together!
May we all serve him! Today, and forever!
His love must be the cord that binds!
His will must be the focus of our minds!
May the presence of God bind us as one!
Every mother, father, daughter and son!
By Jim Pemberton

Early in the cool morn
After the rain of night
Single raindrop reflects
The early soft sunlight
Across the sea so wide
In the darkest night hour
A little girl with dark
Black hair has no power
A single moist teardrop
Lays on her face so fair
Teardrop reflects sad plight
The bars of room so bare
One raindrop reflects grace
All the beautiful space
One teardrop reflects hate
On the face as he rapes

Back to the roots ever weaving
Hands to elbows sweat streaming
Back to the roots whence the seed began
Deluded to think that along the path you ran
The roots had not snaked behind your every stride
And tangled your feet to fall hands first into your erstwhile guide
Back to the roots where it sprouted out
And take grasp of the past and heave with a shout
How your roots have brought you back matters no more
For you have fallen back into knots that have tripped you before
So take grasp of the roots and yield to your past
Knees bent untying the knots of fate’s cast.

How’s it going?
How’s it going dear Eric?
Have you found your perfect place?
Has time healed your wounds and blisters?
Is wind blowing in your face?
Tell me which star do you follow?
Are you drifting like a leaf?
Who’s your princess, who’s the villain?
Have you found strength to forgive?
Did you know there is an angel
Watching every step you make?
Praying that you make wise choices
and you learn from your mistakes.
How’s it going dear Eric?

Sparkles, sparkles in the air,
Oh how you are everywhere.
One, two, three, four,
More and more fall to the floor.
Spinning around and around in the air,
Lots and lots I find to share.
Colors!
More than I have ever seen.
Lights and lights so bright.
Wow, what an incredible gleam!
Millions and millions of colors in the air,
Tumbling to the ground.
More and more fall all around,
And a new one I have found.
Sparkles, sparkles in the air,
Wow! You are everywhere.
Five, six, seven, eight,
More and more accumulate.
Spinning here and there,
Lots and lots I grab to share.
Shapes!
Way more than I have ever seen.
Brighter and brighter so light.
Wow, what an incredible dream!
Billions and billions of shapes in the air, falling all around.
More and more fall to the ground,
And then a new one comes tumbling down.
.
®Registered: 1998 Ann Rich

Sometimes I sit and ponder
what it may be like
to have parents, not always
looking for a petty fight
the love you feel, always
being there for you
day o' night
I wake up fighting a
constant battle,
I feel like I am in a circus
having to jump through hoops
my parents hold
to earn their admiration and
approval
Earning their gold star
for the day
I was a rebel since day one
not trying to conform
dancing to the beat of a
different drummer
Wishing to be accepted
for who I want to be
and how I seek to spend my hours
nothing I ever do, seems to be good
enough
They talk about "emotional deposits"
i.e. spending time with them
but they spend too much time
picking and proving
reacting wrong, saying ignorant assumptions
they push me away, each day
'further and further I go
as soon as I make enough money
I'm gone
They act as if my artistic mind
couldn't make money
like my dreams are distant relatives
of which I will never meet
but I strive to prove them wrong
Its bad enough being
one person versus the world
but when the army you fight
is led by your family, your blood
it's twice as hard to get up
in the morning, when the suns
rays dance on my closed
eyelids
I try my best to be the kind
of person I want to be
despite their efforts to kill off
my individualistic soul
I have given up trying
to belong to which I
was born unto
I'm simply playing the game
Hoping to win, one day
the chance to be myself
as I feel emulates me,
and regardless
have a proud
Mommy and Daddy
I do pray, I shall be
free to be
Heather Rose Marie

When the misery of this thing called life,
grasps your throat tightly from behind.
Think not of the troubles you’ve endured,
rather trust in yourself and you shall find.
Believe that you serve a higher purpose,
to which no other shoes could ever fulfill.
Have total faith in your personal beliefs,
and watch as this grief diminishes at will.
You are the most important aspect in life,
and your self-worth simply cannot be sold.
You hold the only key to your happiness,
so use it wisely before you become too old.
You see, I’ve lived my humble life for others
Daughter, just as I sadly see you doing too,
Please don’t lose sight of the beautiful spirit,
which illuminates the darkness because of you.
Remember to prosper and thrive continually,
for the gift you are could never be replaced.
Love and respect yourself with great honor,
and allow the rest of your life to be emplaced.

“He’s Our Joy”
He talks funny
But his disposition is sunny
Even though his tongue is too long
He’s not a loss
Just because his eyes are crossed
He’s never going to earn a degree
To his parents he’ll always cleave
He may have Downs
But he’s a joy to have around
The public might shame him
But they don’t see what makes us love him
He’s our precious joy
Our very own Mongoloid.

It came into my mind of long ago
How the clothesline held diapers in a row
When on those very cold days of winter
Those diapers dried on folding wooden dryer
Hanging over that ancient floor furnace
While children scattered toys skillfully
Experts were they at their fun time of play
Now there is no very ancient furnace
The children no longer play on the floor
They have gone their very separate ways
Different each in personality
Temperament difference now plainly seen

A child is born
all loving, forgiving, honest,
a special child of the light,
eyes wide open, awake,
the wolves are happy,
to feast at the table of its suffering.
Feed it just enough love to survive,
milk it of its light, little by little
suckling its love, its forgiveness,
a sweet delicacy for a vampiric world.
The child becomes a young adult...
control, conformity, submission,
overwhelming expectations,
no freedom, no love, no peace,
a barrage of others suffering,
cant get it off me, out of my head!
out of my heart, it hurts!
Its all too much!
Why do they all hurt me?
Why are they not honest like me?
How can they be so mean to me?
What is wrong with me?
I just want a taste of love,
to remind me why I am alive!!

I am a Robot
Who cannot feel
The shame that sweeps over me
I am a ghost
Who cannot be touched
By your wandering hands
I wish I were a God
Who could send you to hell
To be tormented for eternity
I wish i were invisible
So the stares would slide away
I wish i were superman
To save others from my same fate
To save them from monsters
LIKE YOU

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one.
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed.
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent.
A meager thought
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows,
"Save them."

Things I have from yesterday,
those days from years gone by
remind me of those younger days
and dreams that touched the sky.
Times were so much simpler then,
the seasons that we knew
reminded us of days when
our boyhood dreams were true.
Living life for the moment,
o, what we would not do.
It’s sure we would have known that
these times would soon be through.
Looking back on times we had
inspire these days ahead.
Coming years still find me glad
as dreams still fill my head.

vacant days of big fat cats
little old ladies with big
white hats
summer naps followed
by soft summer nights
turning into silver
dreams of.....
conjured up lovers
and riding machines
pasting in books of
innocent looking guys
with high flying schemes
brothers tender then
hostile; old loves gone
cold........
waiting for a ring
by a small black phone

she was an angry woman
not much love,
she wouldnt put up with a man
abusing her,
the mistake women made then,
prostitution for security,
selling your heart for money,
she regretted having me,
lost freedom,
tied down,
single mom, poor,
abused by the culture,
her love was shown
in that she didnt abandon us,
even though she was tempted,
her mother wasnt that strong,
my heart didnt value that,
i wanted to be wanted, loved.
I saw the other children,
wanted, loved, rich,
my blinders on,
rose coloured glasses,
envy, despair, no self esteem,
worthlessness, less than human,
not expensive enough clothes,
not nice enough car,
"drop me off a block from school"
"I am not shopping at wal-mart"
something i didnt notice then
i have always been blessed with beauty
i never even saw the girls that adored me
too afraid, to poor, to stupid,
If my mother didnt love me, how could another?
greedy, selfish women, angry,
years of oppression, and taking it out on me,
the male, the enemy, "no love from mommy".
Now i pay the price for my fathers oppression.
the gay guys arent as wierd as i thought,
at least they are getting laid.
The women i meet now,
if i love them
i am not good enough for them
if i use them or tell them how pathetic they are,
they love me, addicted, cant leave.
On occassion i love a weaker girl,
i see their potential,
usually sexually abused as a child,
they will leave, hate me,
for my honesty,
too afraid of love, of closeness,
get pregnant and leave or kill themself,
one or the other, such drama,
If a child wont end their suffering
then death will.
What did i do to deserve this?

Dear Soap Bubble,
bright focus
in an air-light reflection
of the ephemeral beauty
of this world
diaphanous soul
in despair
sincere
fearful
innocent
hesitating
uncertain
distrustful
pure
Emotional universum
rumbling inside the anima
of a tiny simple
passionate creature
I shall enjoy thy sight
Shall I live in fear
for you not to burst
Shall I be the wind
to blow tenderly
directing thy path
Thy shelter shall I be
I surrender myself to thee

MY GIRL
Lazy summer days
Pigtails, French braids
Long silky hair blowing
In the wind
Days forever gone
Tears well up in my eyes
And I long once again
To hold her close
To see her smile
To hear her laughter
Tinkle like rain
Lord, shower down from heaven
Encouraging words of
Together we will be
In that glorious place
A world without pain
Hearts completely healed
Memories of yesterday
Live on today
Hope of a tomorrow
Full of promise
mja

The joys of flesh, a smile to wreath the maid of morn
an inner world to project out, of holy chi we’re formed.
No need to cling like over ripe fruit to a heaven far above,
We we’re made of silver stardust and we were made from love.
Look not to moon or sun to see, look deep to questing heart,
hug the night with outstretched arms, the dark’s another part.
Gifted are we with all we need, this is no metaphor,
we have a heaven here on earth, yet still we ask for more.
Be not the spoiled and soiled child tired of his toys
mature, grow up, grow inward, see all your heavenly joys!

Wind
on a
warm summer
day. Fir limbs sway
like a flapper from
the roaring twenties. The
breeze carries a resinous
scent of pitch and earth, unleashing
a flood of memories thought lost to
time. The campfire smoke and embers still glow.

A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--
now I am free.
I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--
which sets me free.
Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening,
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless
waste of ashes.
From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile
looks from
across the dinner table.
But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing:
I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from
a child whose only fault was that he was born
defenseless and
white.
O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks;
free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams
of Spring again!

I wish they taught more about
Heartbreak in English class;
That I would see your face
In stormclouds, when
Bronze from the sunset scribbles
Our names in the sky.
It is happening every day.
I am no prize
In my Rossington-Collins band teeshirt
And deliberately torn jeans,
Sitting on the end of the street-
The place where horizon brush strokes
Abruptly end.
"Quiet"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith

angels are sprawled
in the longest reach my children could snow-afford on my former green lawn
over-played carols over-play the car ride to the store, where they will continue
an embarrassment of lights dangle ‘side a staple-holed roof trim
somewhere, not ‘nough off too far, there are
yards watching snowmen come and go
behind the windows that hold kitchens
the bills are a pilin’
the car’s in the driveway needing to be plugged in
the mailman’s griping ‘bout the weight of his sack
dropping off cards he’d gladly drag back
the t.v.’s got little relief
there’s a log burning on a 24 hour channel
that someone someday'll
commercial the crap out of
office parties
forum the drunk, “Here’s what I really think of you…”
spark the short lived, misappropriate romance
the mall cattle call. . . from parking lot to till
warrants wrappings to be hauled away
to some landfill
waiting for Valentine’s Day

She looked at him with unsullied wide eyes blue
She’d never loved or would a man so much, so long.
She trusted him. He loved her and he was her world. And she his.
She knew no other man nor men knew her and all was pure, as she was too.
She just knew him, his healing word his gentle kiss his soft brief touch and all he had
he gave, and all she took and wanted more, for all was safe in those, his guarding arms.
She loved to laugh and he did too in those the days when she felt small
She thought he was a force at times not man, but just for her and to her all his love he gave.
She shone to him, the life he’d made. Now she gave him love for life, her gift to him
She was his life and would give his for her, should shadow cross their path.
She never thought that he’d do bad or break her trust or worse her heart
She could not know that life is hard or that man is flawed for all his will.
She would know but not today, today or now, tomorrow holds its secret sorrows still for her.
She holds his hand as on they go, the sunshine's bright on wide eyes blue, the girl, her
dad, as one. For now.

Black and white photographs
Ink and paper history
Of faces and places unknown to me
Images faded, edges tattered and worn
Stored in the small wooden box where dolls once lived
Retrieved from the closet when relatives come
Together they laugh and remember
The car, the house, the dog, the war
The friends who have since passed on
Promising that some day
They will note the names and the places -
But each time the box is retrieved
The memories fade
Like the names and the faces
Of the friends who are now gone.

Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship,
Its curving timbers bend and bow,
Upon a mast flapping about,
Are white sails all eager to go.
A voyage over distant seas,
Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship,
The rigging whistling in the wind,
Is music playing to my ears.
For me a life upon the wave,
Oceanic winds my only guide,
Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship,
On its journey around the world.
Ahhh! A brave captain I be
Sending my crew this way and that,
Until mum calls us in for tea,
Beneath the deep blue sky, my ship.
Form: Empat, Empat

Winter is also celibate. The conscience is moving,
A frozen light in a frozen eye. It's raining much looser,
Down a ripped tree. I couldn't have,
I couldn't have, in this sin-sick tenderness.
___
My face is cracked in my fawnlike fingers;
And the nose betrays an inner child, who
Wouldn't listen to sparrows about being catched.
I just insisted fur was wings.
___
The feminine chill on the palm must be sorrow;
When I think of church bells, or mother-
That I am haunting as raw love.

Trees still shade the road
where Gramps and I once rode
in his old green car -- I drove --
on dusky early evenings
in my fifteenth year.
We stopped, as he insisted, at every spot
where an armadillo scratched
among the tender greenery
in ditches.
I was dispatched,
with Gramps' strong wood cane,
to kill a pesky armored creature
by striking hard, once, upon its snout.
Gramps waited in the car,
called encouragement or condemnation:
"That's it! Hit him hard!" or
"Can't you do a damn thing right?"
He knew I didn't like to kill
but was determined to toughen up
my softness.
That hard old man was not accustomed
to being crossed or contradicted.
But part of him was tender,
and he had a sense of what was right
in the bayou country of his day.
How could I tell him that I hated
killing just to please him?
Often, I killed, then killed again,
although, at times, I'd miss the snout
or be slow to follow up,
and permit an armadillo to escape.
Sometimes, I'd temper force with moderation --
I'd stun the creature, grab the tail,
fling it far into dense bushes
to revive and live another day.
My grandfather eyed me darkly then,
but often kept his peace.
He gave me the treatment
I gave those stunned armadillos.
Could he have felt the same
toward me as I toward them?

I Cried Today
I am thirteen today
You would think I would be happy
Yet it is hard to even crack a smile
With everyone wishing me a Happy Birthday
To me it’s not that happy
As today strange voices carrying on inside me
They say I don’t deserve to live
They say I should die
I am thirteen and
I Cried Today
My sweet sixteen isn’t so sweet
I just want to hide
Go back to sleep
Or simply disappear
What is a girl to do?
When she feels so sad, lonely and depressed
I don’t even have anyone to turn to
I am sixteen and
I Cried Today
Today I am nineteen
It is my graduation day
And while I am smiling on the outside
I feel like I am crumbling on the inside
Those voices don’t give
Never a break
No rest for the wicked they say
I am nineteen and
Today I Cried
I am twenty-one
No drinking for me
I am in a hospital as my first sip was almost my last
Who knew I could be so allergic
I am twenty-one
In a hospital and
I Cried Today
I am twenty-five
I thought I was in love
Until I walked in on my fiancé
In bed with my best friend
My heart feels so cold
I am so alone
As my world has just turned upside down
I am twenty-five and
I Cried Today
I am thirty
I am working hard
To get back my life
Take control of my future
And actually see the possibilities of a tomorrow
It is a lot of work
With a hard road ahead
I am Thirty
I Never Cried Today
I am thirty-four
In a few short months I will be thirty-five
I am not alone
I realize I never was
Surrounded by people I love
People who love me
Married to the love of my life
My dreams are coming true
I feel so happy
I am almost thirty-five and
I Smiled Today
By: Jean Shular

They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so.
Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor.
But I doubt they’re really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so.
And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow.
They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day.
And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display.
Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm.
And 12 stick close together as they show they’re many charms.
I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends.
Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end.
Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat.
We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat.
Of course he’s really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose.
For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so.
As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to
Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned
Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning
At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our
lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...

You are not the man, you want to be
You said you were my Father, till, I discovered different
Enduring, daily beatings
Bashing the living day lights, out of a woman and a child
Repetitive, bad ass attitude, nasty streak
Mean and aggressive!
Fists, knives and guns, your weapons of chose
Out of control, abusive, devious
Relentless, over – bearing!
Breaking me, piece by piece
Confusing a child, with unhealthy love
Hand fed your bullshit, brain washed
Using me as your human, punching bag
This innocent child’s blood, staining your callas hands
My child’s curiosity, asking you one day
“Why do you hurt me and Mum?”
Your retort: “I am not your blood!”
I didn't understand, back then
Now, as an adult, I clearly understand!
Believe me, when I say
There was never a day that went past
That you didn't remind me of that!
My freedom, restrained
My sanity, tested
Caged, like a wild bird in captivity
Behind bars, looking out
Here, I am today, free from your grip
Nursing, this inner child’s, bleeding love

Some of those boyhood memories,
only so often come around,
so when they do, I set them free,
on paper I write them down,
When I was younger living at Blackiston Mill..
I had a rocking horse,
and I remember the day I took a spill,
as I hit the floor head first,
And I remember my pet squirrel,
and me learning how to roller skate,
the very first time I kissed a girl....
before I was old enough to date,
And I remember when mom and dad,
moved us to the city....
when I was just a lad....
listening to the songs of Conway Twitty,
Yes, he'll forever be missed by me,
and his songs still come to mind...
a great writer and singer of musical history,
One Great Legend of all times!

The friar
Revered innocence
You’ve got to try it
put it on your lap
a smiling little thing
still sheer and brittle
if possible blind or deaf,
almost genderless.
It just sits there
an unweaned lamb.
Take the little head
gentle it downwards
to the issue of our charity
Lead it, shovel if necessary.
Don’t be scared!
Today it’s allowed
your parents too far:
the force of every belief
too big to grasp.
Sooner or later it pushes
to where we assumed
our hands were in power.

theres a demon running towards me
in the refelction in the mirror
and the closer that he comes
his intentions becomes clearer
as the shadowy figure draws near
with every step he makes
the rythmic beating of my heart pumps fear
with every breath i take
like the devils tools and instruments
i hear a drum and violin
because in my ear rings influence
for all i've done in vial sin
and as this cup i drink becomes and overflow of shame
each thought that i think manifests itself in blame
but who am i but a tainted soul
who has not yet tasted life
a coward growing very cold
a sinner with a heart of ice
the world can never understand the thoughts that i create
because my thoughts are simply not for man but somewhat more for fate
many put on a facade
and play the role of being nice
i find that very odd
using deception to entice
can i defect from this world of lies?
or must i go with the flow?
no one answers my question why
but everyone "seems" to know
they are just as confused as chickens without their heads
the blind leading the blind into the land of the dead

I felt my thoughts run wild
Was I really a demon child
Thoughts tightened my head grew light
I hoped my expression was on my face right
I absorbed your statement surety taking flight
Your questions growing old
Your coming across as way to bold
So this is the child you stole
Standing here now I felt guilty as sin
My emotions had just let little old Peace walk right in
I was sure that without me the child's future was dim
So I filled her right up to the rim
Without me here she surely would be condemned
Who would look for me now I live in the brim
As I fought the fear
Of having you here
It hurt to the bone
Making her a home
So I opened the door
But her back to where she was before
Because I love her even more
I stay here to even the score

I want to taste her.
Not anyone specifically,
I just crave to know
what it all could really mean.
I would fall for her. Knock down these Berlin sized walls I have up. But my world sucks because Her is just a figurative way of discribing something that may never come.

A rewrite of the previous,,after reading it again the one before this,,, I felt it was sending the wrong message,,,,,,at first to me it was what I wanted to say about my make believe sister,,,,,,only that the lines I wrote, could be mis-construed to another meaning.
She is a dream girl, sibling, I never had.
Not to sexy, or even beautiful to see,
She is not exactly good or even bad.
She is just my fantasy, designed for me.
Not to sexy, or even beautiful to see,
She is mostly happy, hardly ever sad.
She is just my fantasy, designed for me.
She has no mother, not even a dad.
She is mostly happy, hardly ever sad.
Impossible you say, this could never be,
She has no mother, not even a dad.
A dream girl as my sister, oh gee.
Impossible you say; this could never be.
Though it is true, she is my abnormal fad.
A dream girl as my sister, oh gee.
What I always wanted, since I was a lad,
Though it is true, she is my abnormal fad.
She is not exactly good or even bad.
What I always wanted, since I was a lad,
She is a dream girl, sibling, I never had.
By Cecil Hickman
Written for
Sponsor Paula Swanson
Contest Name Pantoum

The angry bees or the mild
Grew together in the hive in the house next to the tree
Although couldn't understand as a child
That any of bees would hurt me
Those bees mating and taken to flight
Would cover and sting anyone in sight
Where we all alike hit the dirt lying low
Not wanting those bees to sting us that day
Now fifty-seven years later remembering you
You who was a hero to me that way
The orchard probably is not longer there
Wonder if those bee hives' boxes still sit
Next to the house at the edge of orchard
Or did those bees go back into the side
The side of the house through that tiny hole
Back to their hive and family

Its dark cold and wet below
I'am all alone does anyone know?
I fell the warmth of my padded earth;
Trying to make out what life is worth.
I wonder what's up there?.......how will I know?
It must be good from that great glow.
HeY! I broke through....I can see.....
There is more around than just me.
Ah,what a releif I'am not alone;
I see others small like me too growing strong.
It feels so good to be on top.....but I am still growing, will I ever stop?
Up,up,up and out is how I go,in heat,rain,wind or snow.........
Alas........I AM.

Days come and days go,
Like a pendulum’s to and fro,
But night’s stay with me awake,
As if a world is in the make,
Only one thought holds on to my mind,
As a species does to one of its kind,
The child I saw in the corner of the street,
Though not a home to him, but a retreat,
The road has relinquished him of food,
But has taught him to fight his hunger,
The open sky has gifted him the coldest of nights,
But has taught him to fly high in the dreamy air,
The sickness was visible in those deep black eyes,
But they were all decorated with the aspirations,
He was though fighting for his necessities,
But was having all the energy required for his illumination,
The moment those black eyes fell into mine,
There was a question for me, and for the divine,
Why the one having all the opportunities fail to achieve,
While the one who can achieve is not opportune,
May be the destiny is answering this to us,
As this brings the status quo to an equilibrium,
As there is no one who gets everything,
And there is no one who gets nothing, but some.

I held back when I could have gone forward
Since I was a child I felt cornered and tortured
And every attempt to change was a bluff, since
On my hands and feet I put the heavy cuffs –
Because of fear
I said ‘yes’ many times when I could have said ‘no’
What my life would have been like I will never know
I remained seated when I could have stood up
I willingly lapped up the poison oozing from my death cup –
Because of fear
I went left when I should have gone right, and
I shut my eyes when they should have been open wide
I smiled silently when I should have cried, and although
I have not met my death yet, many times I died –
Because of fear

He stood on the tracks in the middle of town
and thought of yesterday with a heavy frown.
Behind him, a life he chose to forget.
Ahead a new day, beyond the sunset.
Memories of his childhood like a train wreck
left him battered and bruised, a noose 'round the neck.
A mother who left him before he was nine,
a dad who never worked, stayed drunk all the time.
His brother, a hero, lost in the Vietnam war.
His sister, an addict, he could help no more.
Nothing left for him in this dead end town,
and so there he stood taking one last look around.
He heard the train whistle and his heart felt renewed.
With hope for the future, happiness, he pursued.
As he boarded and took his seat on the train,
he waved goodbye to the heartache, goodbye to his pain.
He closed his eyes and fell into peaceful sleep.
Then awoke with one memory, he decided to keep.
Long ago, Grandpa gave him his pocket watch and said,
"give wings to your soul or you might as well be dead."
Just a boy at the time, he did not understand.
Looking up now, he thanked Grandpa, watch in his hand.

“Dickhead”
There is a saddened kind of shame
a name that’s cruel and thus demeans,
elementary obscene
a child can not reach deep enough.
It started when I read above
my third grade level reading group
and followed to my brownie troop
then fearful fighting, flight to home.
And in defense I’d use my gift
to make up names and write mean songs-
I’d teach the boys to sing along
and charge their chocolate milk money.
With my moustache a poor disguise,
with puffy, rubbing, teary eyes
I made myself apologize
though only choking squeaks were heard.
Nicoleslaw Dickhead was my name
a name that’s cruel and thus demeans,
slimy side-dish dung for brains-
a child can not reach deep enough.

The sun glistens heavenly over our heads;thus casting black shadows as we walk in
togetherness.
We prespire ,skylarking in our seizure,in youthful bantering as we reach our destination.
Sudenly the wind is crisp,there is an occassional breeze about us pressing against our faces.
Feet cooled by the soft feel of wet sand,we emerge into the tranquil waters.......
we rise,we laugh,we dry ourselves and journey home.
The lean season begins and the sound of rain on our roof-tops restrain us to indoor activities.
The once humid air is cut sharply by the smell of moisture and precepitation.
Water trickles slowly down the window pane as I gaze unpatiently for a clearer day.
I bombard my mind with many insane questions,knowing fully well that there are yet no
answers.

Two hearts beat, now beating faster; beating until they're one
Two souls breathe, now breathing deeper; breathing until they're done
Two lovers see forever, and forever is where they run
One child comes home tomorrow for life has just begun
Even when the rainbow's glowing, the skies can seem so gray
Even when the wind's not blowing, the tides can turn your way
And when the water's raging, beneath skies that seem so blue
It's just your body aging, and it has nothing to do with you
So now when our God comes calling, I'll hold your hand and stroke your hair
Yes, as snowflakes start falling, I will look for you everywhere
And Mother, as you start flying, remember as you rise above
Marlene, you are not dying, but finding everlasting love
One child goes home tomorrow to embrace the Father and the Son
One child who knows no sorrow, for life has just begun

One lonely loved teardrop
Splashing in an ocean
Causing ripples in innocence
For the introverted child
He or she, her or him
Understanding a fact of truth
Emotions tangled in emotions
For sight is finally whole
An abundance of thoughts
Due to immense exposure to life
The wishes of an infant are granted
Age is given in its complete nature
No longer is the son sheltered
No longer is the princess protected
Who to trust? Who to avoid?
Boys and girls become fallible
Girls become all that is woman
Boys become all sides of man
Both succumbing to pressure
Each learning through experience
To be a lady or to be promiscuous
To be a gentleman or give into lecheries
To live for frailties or meaningful morals
Each choice having consequences
The ambivalence of life is understood
Precious moments and painful memories
Happy and hated days become entwined
The little girl longs for love
The little boy longs for guidance
Independence is finally tested
Each falls into a frightening environment
As a teardrop in an ocean

What happened to all the honey bees
That used to swarm all around and abound
And would cover the fruit and holly trees
Now, you rarely see them buzzing around?
Where have the huge flocks of blackbirds gone
That I recall who would blacken the sky
And bruise your ears with the shrill of their song
In the spring and fall as they flew by?
What happened to all those water frogs
That I recall whose deep rhythmic bellows
Would echo back down through the hollow bogs
All summer until the leaves turned yellow?
What happened to the little horned toads
That I would catch for a pet as a boy
That crawled all over the fields and dirt roads
And made a neat little pet to enjoy?
Why doesn't the wolf still split the night
And chill my heart with his long lonesome cry
As he howls away at the full moon's light
Adoring the illuminated sky?
Where are all the calls of the bob white
And the lonely calls of the whippoorwill
That used to pine away all through the night
And could be heard in almost every field?
Where are the spine chilling panther screams
That mimicked some poor damsel in peril
And would often conjure up awful dreams
Of gruesome creatures wicked and feral?
Are they on a premature path into yore
Has adequate time been duly assigned
For us to say, "There are no more...."
Or could it be, I've just outlived my time?
Timothy I. Brumley

What if the tables had been turned...
And it was her, looking at me
Seeing what the eyes can't believe
And what the heart can't embrace
I'm looking into sorrow's face
The sadness wraps itself around her
Like a blanket of grey fog
A face so pale, so ashen and cold as a winter's day
Betrayed and abandoned by her youth
The girl she used to be....why can't I find a trace?
A youth taken away by choices,
By circumstance, by life experiences
By things that I cannot know
My memory of her has been stolen away
In this unexpected, brief encounter
I swallow tears in my grief, as I mourn the vision
That had been tucked away in my heart for so long
Is it regret, or is it a guilt I cannot name?
A friendship born in childhood, so young, so carefree
She, with bright eyes, and blond hair that curled
Around her high cheeks and rosy smile
She was the one who shined so brightly,
Who's charm, who's gay laughter I had so admired
A childhood where we danced together in sweet grass under sunny skies
Where is the innocence, the radiance?
No longer there, not even a glimpse of the girl I knew
Oh, how I weep inside
Now, here, this meeting by chance
After years that had taken us to seperate worlds
In my mind, and in my dreams, she had always been
The fair maiden, the one who had held my hand
Two little girls who made promises
Who sat in the dark, under a summertime sky
By the light of the moon and wished upon the stars.
The stars now gone from her sad eyes, the look of weary miles
Now fill the void ......as one more time.....
we say our goodbye.
What if the tables were turned
And it was her, looking at me.....
......................................................................................................
In honor of Desiree's Contest "What If"

I've tried to tamper with such precious time
Looked forward and back with open eyes
I wonder about the day I'll die
Will there be rain or shine?
Maybe both, maybe none
As I speak another life has begun
Wish them luck as they carry on
Bewildered within these starry nights
I thought of time when I have lied
Oh such precious time
It flies
(im sleeping outside)
Signs and dreams lead me to believe
That somehow, some way
I'll be something great
Do I choose to be nieve?
They'll never know
Do I choose to be so weak?
It'll never show
(I'll be sleeping outside)
Love is such a clishey it seems
Something I could only see
Her eyes drew us in like summer heat
Cupids arrows were made of clay
Oh yes I've longed for this day
I knew I wasnt lying anymore
(I always sleep outside
where the weather is nice
I can feel everything for what it's worth
dont give me signs or written lines
give me your solid words)

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp

Abomination of domination in multitudes of devils
With strange shabby solitude beyond the evil`s
Rancid rape, luminous leafage and black Bamboozle,
At the sheepfold`s distressed mind, bamboos squabble
In luxuriant green of the rain forests `flame
The loud lukewarm rain with long steps came.
In the sky the yellow got in the solitude’s ship.
Easy to accomplishment a new relationship
With the raspberries `rancor and chime of fear
With old attempt to test the hell`s hurtful huge tear;
With hydrochloric hatred and much affection;
Tender hope of chlorophyll to cherish temptation
And passion in the inner soul`s struggle to taste
Yearning for peace, love in bloom, and the rest;
Everybody thinks scorn of scoundrels.
But Bumble bee brought by minstrels
Is ready to spin a yarn:
Yearling
Yearning
To sing…

Ticking clock,
The doorbell rings.
I made a stride, I hear a knock.
A package, the mail man brings.
Stamps and brown paper,
And writing and string.
Inside, I found a note and a feather.
It read such a peculiar thing.
"When you were little I would hold your hand,
And tuck you into bed.
I came running at your demand,
Listened to whatever you said."
"In the clouds, the birds are free
Soaring through the endless sky.
There is one last thing you can do for me,
Spread your wings and learn to fly."
A final attempt to throw me a rope,
So her child can have a life that’s complete.
She said I was her only hope,
To have faith in something that’s concrete.

I. Creation
Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests,
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.
Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.
II. A Home all Your Own
In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating
An eerie starry night
To you alone
In a home all your own.
III. Repent to your inner child
To regain a solid footing on the gun deck
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam,
Hearken lessons from the playground,
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body.
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited.
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor
In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.

My Madness, Me...
Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,
body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.
Still, I am,
I am,
and I am unchained,
my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,
swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,
soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.
I am.
My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,
I am, and though I am unable to see,
I am.
At long last,
me...

scarred tissue
i don't miss you
i don't wish you
were the better of me
i don't care much
for surveillance
but it tempts me
to burn out inside
everybody's lying
scarred tissue
i really miss you
i really wish you
had got the better of me
you see, i need that bad beat sometimes
'cause everybody's fine
yeah, everybody's fine
that's what on my mind
For even Elvis reigning in his castle
sometimes lost battles, immortalized
forever tell the stories of the glories
of mighty Aphrodite
the most beautiful sin in existence
bright was her smile
all while the while
evil stirred grinning
storm clouds
castles in the sky
castles in the sky
made for you and I
grand castles in the sky
sometimes re-invent your self
just for indulgence
stray from the normal path
for it was one of a kind
but I'm already under influenced
sometimes a knowledgeable bright shining star
fades away into the darkness
shall come back in rebirth
I know it sounds tragic
but that's what I heard
every bird has wings
wings to fly away
any chosen day
into my dismay
a beautiful array
wings to start a new
inner strength attitude
because I'm in stride with you
on another level soon
a game worth winning is the reason we play
life can be desperate at times
but I find its beauty truly basking
in the sunlight of midday
so as I wave
before a wave
washes me to the shore I seek
every day has been worth the while
for the while stays wildly embedded
in uniquely threaded
scarred tissue

Children of Market Gods
Oh the sherbet of my youth
To climb trees
And run from bees
To bathe in playful streams
To dress up and be the prince of my dreams
I was captain hook
Marvelled at stories from my books
Imagination my friend, my dog blue,
A friend so true
Everyday an adventure, the sun was mine
And the snow, so special, so divine.
Now I am old, and the world can count the cost
The legacy of childhood which has been lost
What happened to the children I see?
Who have no time for childish things?
But love a world where nothing is real
Games of war and adverts galore
No magic dragons, or slop dosh pies
Just another mp3 and the must have zombie game to buy
Enthralled by what the judges say on X-factor
Emmerdale farm and holly oaks, such poor actors
Britain’s Got talent, and Made in Chelsea
Can someone help me?
Imagination is dead
Who will lead tomorrow?
All I see is sorrow
For books never read
For dreams that are dead
For children with a dull existence
A bottle of wine and East Enders their future subsistence
Brain cells left on the shelf
Along with the artist, the poet and Santa’s little elf
Lost is the childhood
And we are to blame
It is our shame
We as parents, forgot they are children
Call me a grumpy old sod
But one day I will continue this conversation with God.

A kaleidoscope, a mixture of colors and light
So hard to describe so hard to write
Just like a life just like mine
Here is mine my time to shine
The colors change just like time
A life goes on to hit its prime
No matter what it keeps on changing
Just like life keeps on arranging
My story begins at age six
When life was suddenly no easy fix
The Kaleidoscope began to turn
And its center began to churn
My father left our family home
He left alone to go and roam
Suddenly the Kaleidoscope went dark
Even now it’s left its mark
It remained unturned for about two years
And the movement became quite severe
My Mother moved away from home
To improve her new teaching career
The shades of blue came into play
As most of my family had passed away
My mother was strong and held my hand
Even though nothing had gone as planned
My family will always be in my heart
Those small blue beads will play their part
At that time I was almost nine
I pretended that I was just fine
The colors changed from blue to red
I went on with almost no dread
At age eleven I moved once more
I moved again to the California core
I spent the next year in shades of green
All the kids were just too mean
I went to Junior and then Senior High
Then it was time to say goodbye
The Kaleidoscope turned and made a painting
My life became very entertaining
That’s when I met you for the first time
My hope and happiness began to climb
But My Father turned my Kaleidoscope for me
And I asked and cried my pitiful plea
On the weekends the kaleidoscope turns black
With nothing there to change it back
There are ups and downs, lights and darks
With many blond moments and smart remarks
My life will always be turning fast
Even so I have time to look back at my past
If I remember one thing it is that
My life was nothing like combat
But I still fought wars of my own
Without them my world would still be unknown
There is nothing quite like a kaleidoscope
It’s a symbol of change and hope
I like to think my life is like this
So look back and reminisce
Look back at your thoughts and dreams
But remember nothing is as it seems
The Kaleidoscope will turn to show your past
What was boring and what was a blast
Mine shows everything you’ve done for me
You showed me how fun life can be
You made my life what it is now
To this day I still wonder how
Thank you for turning my Kaleidoscope
And giving me strength and the power to cope
You made my life a beautiful rainbow
You deserve more than you will ever know

The world is a perplexing place
So much beauty and so much evil all tied into one
I started having fun when I was way too young
I’ve walked down both sides of the tracks
The adrenaline rush was like smoking crack
Being naive and carefree I thought I was living the ideal life
By the time I was fifteen I had experienced it all
Sometimes I managed to pull myself up
However temptation was too great, despite knowing the toll
I felt like I had lost my soul
I didn’t realize I was just being used and abused
I used to think I was being cool, but now I realize I was surrounded by a bunch of dumb
ass fools
People I thought were my friends all did me wrong in the end
I put my trust into the wrong hands and then one day reality struck
I found myself stuck
I learned the hard way
I literally found myself fighting for my life and ended up being taught the strength
The strength I had within myself all of these days
I refuse to live in fear
That’s when I decided to change my ways
I was forced to grow up way to young
My life had been like one disastrous play
I took back control in every plausible way
I could no longer kick and scream
For I was done living in this catastrophic dream
It was my fight to fight and it was all up to me
There are no magic pills, no quick fixes
Only I could choose to remain a victim
I get upset if anyone takes pity, even though a few years were extremely gritty
I found my inner strength on my own, even when the stress makes me feel like I am about to
drown
Like a erasing the scarlet letter I shall no longer where that frown
I chose to let myself be free
Knowing I am the only one who holds the key
The key to unlock and release myself from the pain
Now everyday is like a surprise
I see the world through a fresh pair of eyes
I take advantage of that as much as I can
I try to look for the beauty and pureness everywhere I turn
I would not let myself be tainted from the past
Life passes by so fast
Forget the scary things I have done, for in a moment you can be gone
Take that leap of faith and wear a smile upon your face

Some times they say the great and mighty do fall…
And the penguin story of greatness, should be heard by all.
Polar bears are mighty and cunning with massive brute strength.
But they messed with the penguins, a mistake, I do think.
The polar bears went after the penguins and cute little chicks.
So you’ll never guess what those cute little penguins did.
Using the most courageous penguins as a target so nice.
They lured all the polar bears, for the first time, out onto the ice.
The greedy bears moved out in force for the kill.
But the penguins pushed the ice flows into the currents windmill.
So intent on dinner and full of themselves, were they that day…
That the polar bears didn’t notice the ice caught in the currents sway.
The polar bears were way out to sea, before noticing their plight.
And, by then, the penguins were safely at home tucked in for the night.
You might say, the current was a friend to the penguins that day.
For it eventually sent those polar bears to the North Pole far away.
Now the moral of this story is here to easily understand.
Brute strength is not the greatest thing to cherish; it is far greater to plan…
And, never turn your back on a penguin I say.
They’re the reason there’s no polar bears at the South Pole, to this day.
Tell Me A Story Contest

The Sound of Distant Ankle Bells
Memories of those delicate tinkling bells,
casually fastened around calloused feet,
take hold of my waking moments,
and fling my thoughts back to a distant time,
where folk-songs were heartily sung,
joyful, yet hopelessly out of rhyme.
I barely saw her, a construction labourer perhaps,
hauling bricks, cement, anything, on a scorching Delhi day,
while in the semi-shade of a Gulmohar tree, her infant silently lay.
A cacophony of thoughts such as these swirl around,
yanking me away from the now, to my cow-dung littered childhood playground.
Now, a lifetime of displacement has hushed the jangling chorus of the past,
to a faint trickle of sounds, as distant as an ocean heard inside tiny sea-shells,
and,
I know, that the orchestral nostalgic crescendo, rises, dips, and swells,
as tantalisingly near, yet a world of time away, as were the tinkling of her ankle-bells.

SHE RAN AWAY WITH THE CIRCUS
The neighbor‘s daughter ran away
Gwen is gone .....her brothers say
When the circus left the town
She was nowhere to be found
I heard them whisper –all the biddies
While they tended little kiddies…
…..With the circus.....
Did you know it?
How that mousey girl could blow it!
Throw away her farm girl life
Plans to be a farm boy’s wife .
Who would want to see a city
Drink excitement with the witty--
Who would want to fly the coop
Jump the jump and hop the hoop?
Oh-- those biddies dream their nights
Of Gwen-stolen guy in tights
How he grabs that sly trapeze
Sails the tent with cat-stealth ease.
Me--I wish that girl the best
Hope she’s happy and the rest
Wish I had the guts to run
Find out what is west of sun
But I’d rather read about it
Let the others scream and shout it
When I think about her daring
I envy her for not despairing
May her dearest prayers come true
And her skies flash starlight blue
Hope the circus shapes her life
Wilder than a cardboard wife.
Victoria Anderson-Throop
09/13/2012

There are no words powerful enough to say
The sorrow and regret she feels everyday
No excuse great enough to heal
All the pain and shame she feels
She rises with memories at the break of day
On bended knee for them each night she prays
That wherever they may be today
That her love would comfort them in some way
On her mind and heart they will forever stay
Through her soul they were born
From her life they were torn
Lay

Only seven years old living in a new place
No one at home just have to come in all alone
Eat all alone no one here
Only seven years old but have to get homework
Because the teacher willl be angry
Punishment is to stay in at recess
Only seven years old home so cold
Can't build a fire because no one there
Sad but don't know how to express the pain
Only seven years old worried will anyone come home
Pain of loneliness penetrates the walls and the heart..
Only seven years old too much for a child so young
Only seven years old
Empty, lonely, desolate at only seven years old

I was named after my grandfather on maternal side.
Cecil is my name, though at first I hated it so.
Teased I was, when I was younger, you need to know.
A cartoon there was, Beanie and Cecil show, I confide.
Few may remember though many will never forget.
Cecil was a sea sick sea serpent, which swam so fast.
Always helping Beanie, get out of trouble till the last,
“Help me Cecil” would be his cry, on every television set.
Cecil has always been a misleading name, to many who heard.
Thinking they did, I was a female, then surprised next.
This never hurt me, even happens, when they read my text.
Even now, when some read this verse, may say, “oh my word”,
Cecil also supposed to mean, “Blind” not sure of this meaning.
There is not much more to say, about my first name you see.
Though now that I am older, I do not dislike it, I am just me.
When people make fun of my name, I don’t find it demeaning.
I am even really proud of it, since there are not many with my name.
Though I have run into one or two, in many different places,
I even find it fun, to see expressions, on some of their faces.
They seem happy, as I am to hear, another person called the same
written for
Sponsor Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
Contest Name "WHAT'S IN A NAME?"

If I could talk to God today
Humble praise and thanks I would give
For all the blessings I have received
None of which do I deserve
For any good I may have done
Was by grace through His son
If I could talk to God today, I would ask
Lord, when I was a little child
Why was I so painfully shy?
Whenever strangers were around
I would always run and hide
Reading and daydreaming all the while
If I could talk to God today, I would ask
Lord why does evil continue to exist?
I was only seven, abused and blindly robbed
I was lucky, my life not brutally snuffed!
To perverts this is just a game
So many die while others bear lingering shame
If I could talk to God today, I would ask
Forgiveness for the foolish years
Opportunities missed to do some good
For the many times I put Him last
For unnecessary fears and wasted tears
The empty years spent ‘living it up’
If I could talk to God today, I would ask
For mercy not just for me
For children like me whose trust betrayed
For all of us who have lost the way
Some day I know there will be peace on earth
When you come to live in hearts and homes
Note: For Walayee Whitlock' s "My Darkest Childhood Memories" Contest

You are my inner monster,
always there
you are a part of me
I cannot change that.
You re the voice inside my head
that only I can hear,
and spend countless hours
trying to keep quiet.
I can hear your words
they echo in my mind
taking me back to earlier times
I try to forget
move past
but you are always there
taunting me
belittling me
cursing me
The years have gone by
the distance grows wider
and even now I can hear you .
to deny you is to,
is to deny me
Why some ask …
because you are my father
my inner monster.

My mom is a rosebush
lovely and red
but if you are careless
you’ll wind up quite dead.
My dad is a slide rule
useful and endearing
whose entire career
has been engineering.
My bro is a penguin
laid-back and cool
who hangs out with buddies
his size up at school.
I am a journal
tucked out of sight
listening, watching
more chapters to write.
We are four
corners of a square
connected by thin lines
inside the same lair.

A latchkey kid was I,
A fact I cannot deny.
My mom started working,
Which caused some tear-jerking,
As I kissed my freedom good-bye.
I was the eldest of three,
So responsibility fell upon me,
To make sure chores were done,
And supper begun,
While my siblings reported to me.
Mom knew I could be counted upon,
To keep an eye on things while she was gone.
But at times I resented,
My time with friends prevented,
Since I was the oldest one.
Looking back I truly can say,
I have no regrets to this day.
Growing up as I did,
May have been rough as a kid,
But it made me who I am today.

This is the story of ‘the twitch’.
We have all had it:
That bit of movement before we sleep.
We have been awakened by it when we were younger. . . it threw our arm out to catch us
before we fell out of bed.
It was even younger than that for us.
It was sometimes confused with a kick -- from our mothers’ tummies to the swaddle of
blanket.
As we grew, the arm no longer flew. . . and thus. . . ‘the twitch’.
It is thought that we started with
a parting of the energy that mathematicians make Einsteins
of, or,
sounds of the aria that Mozart’d
into our echoes of the day -- a marriage of concept and conceptual.
It took us through the outreach of awkward doubt. . . brought us ‘round the curve
of nerve
for monkey bars toward the first dance; drew blood in our mouths before we got the first
punch – given/taken.
The part of ‘the twitch’
that is worthy of noting now is that
it has never wanted to be caught:
It wanted more than nothing to be left alone – perhaps; conceived that
it would be an occasion for cause. . . effect – the drive our parents tried to delay
with Dr. Seuss and Disney books. A teenage indifference took us away from
it.
We all fall asleep. . . as we’ve always done.
The story of ‘the twitch’ begins at the thumb; carries on. . . for the course of fingers
it touched.
Brings us a little closer to the edge of our beds.

The content of this poem is semi-graphic, so please be aware of that before you
read.......
Yes, There Really Are Monsters
Growing up as a child, I never wanted to sleep alone.
Fearful of the isolated darkness and mostly the unknown.
“Mommy is there monsters?” a question I would commonly ask.
“Only on Halloween my dear, the ones we see in masks”
Still not satisfied with her answer, I questioned her more.
Asking her the same old thing as I did the night before.
Frustrated and exhausted, she took me by my little hand.
Looking under my bed, in my closet; even the night-stand.
“So see my daughter the monsters are only in your head.”
“It’s time to get some sleep Stacy Lynn, now do as I have said.”
Respecting mommy's wishes; my little body trembling with fear.
Wishing the hour was morning, praying for “him” not to appear.
But as darkness faded, an uncomfortable silence fell about.
I could hear the monster stirring, preparing to come out.
Hoping the noises I heard, were my brothers fooling around.
Pulling covers tightly over my head; praying not to be found.
Footsteps getting closer, the monster is at the foot of my bed.
I hear his heavy breathing; this is not at all what mommy said.
Quietly lifting covers back, he lays down in the bed beside me.
Touching, groping and mauling; covering my eyes so I can't see.
He took away my childhood and my trust and self-esteem.
A pleading child without a voice, invisible as it would seem.
"So yes my daughter there are monsters, everywhere we look."
Stating as I remembered my childhood and everything he took.

I want to walk into the
Hotel Cipriani in Venice
Cigarette holder dangling
Two sleek greyhounds on
Leashes, grey cape over
My shoulders, movie starlet
On my arm, tons of baggage
Stickers, everywhere famous
A postage stamp collection
Is this some macho desire?
Maybe a curiously held goal?
I now have the insight
Identification, an answer
Years puzzling, wondering why
Knowledge of a vision
I cling to, hold so dear
A Hollywood creation
Two faced Janus, illusions
Delusions, painted reality
Of heart's hope, bright eyed
Unclaimed orphan
With a raw heart.

There is a glare of stray sunlight
daring to reverberate
through spiderwebbed glass I haven't
found energy to fix
in the span of four years.
It is too much of a mirror,
too tangible a thought,
to make new.
It's lithe fingers, thin and bony,
and mockingly bright,
steal over embossed cardstock that arrives, like clockwork,
in deepest sympathy.
And a thornless bouquet of pastels laden with
Babies Breath
only draws on blood long lost;
nobody seems to comprehend such an allegory,
or lack there of,
so it can't be carried
over the steps.
"Bloodless On Mother's Day"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith

Inhale the impossibilities, framing faces
with Boston smog and Alston fumes
freezing on eyelashes
you swore you have seen before
on some train through downtown Hell,
a crust-dripping slice of allyway
propped up with rusting mortar;
or probably both.
And all the City's strangers
are trackmarks pocking the veins
of One Ways and Do Not Enters,
each as you are.
Listen to that rush of wind
screaming up through sidewalk grates
of what will never be,
because you won't be seeing any stars.
"City Limits"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith

Loneliness is a powerful thing...
It always hurts your feelings
When somebody tells you wrongs
About your beliefs...
When someone stabs you verbally
And emotionally scarring you for years.
All those fears, turn into fear of
Being true and strong-willed for yourself...
Other people may never remember your pain,
And pretend it was nothing like they took it in vain.
Loneliness kills you when you see
What others might have and you ask "Why can't that be me?"...
Guiltiness of envy causes even more loneliness,
The kind of feeling that tells
What kind of spells negative thoughts put on you...
Forcing you to believe
That what if everyone hates you.
Feeling hurt and corrupted after hearing others...
Saying you're bad to others,
Making you think "They don't understand anything..."
Feeling ignored and bored
When you start to feel left out,
You start to doubt about the friends you have.
(Any kind of) Loneliness is a powerful thing...

Yesterday, I thought I seen the back of your head,
I felt my mind shook as I started to dread,
That you were there,
But then I realized,
It wasn't you.
As I left the airport,
I got into a truck, that was just like yours,
Then all my emotional sores started hurting again.
And later on, after seeing,
That the friend I wanted to have all to myself in high school,
Already had someone to be best friends with,
I held back my tears,
And fear that maybe I'll never recover
From these emotional issues that seem to go on forever.
And I feel like I can't keep myself together...
Especially when I see two siblings who love one another,
Wishing my siblings were close to my age,
Then I wouldn't have ever felt like I was in a lonely cage,
Envying those who get to have a younger sibling jump into their arms,
Whenever I see them at school...
She always felt like a little sister for me,
I want to protect her,
But nowadays, I don't like the way she is some times,
And I feel confused, and lonelier when I see that she
Likes her other friends more than me.
Yet again, more envy,
And I feel guilty realizing it's wrong for me to be jealous
In friendship...
I'll make sure our friendship never ends,
But I know that my loneliness will never disappear,
And I will never be able to reappear,
In school with her again, it hurts,
Especially when I don't have someone to share the suffering
Of high school work and gym.
I still feel hurt and sad, everything in elementary,
That made me glad will be pushed away,
And I'll probably feel alone everyday...
Just like the old days, when I cried at night...
And my alarm clock was my nightlight...
Now I need Him, to keep me safe,
And be my light,
Because the hurt that I often feel
Is an inner fight for life!

Adoloscent confusion
whirlwhind of innocence
taken aback by the hindsight i have
the life i lived and what i know now
puberty
feelings
not knowing whats normal
not knowing who or what is getting the best of you
who to blame when you come unglued
sexual addictions
finaly clear
i miss myself
who i used to love dear
the one i didnt want transformed
into what i understood as an adult
unhealthy, abusive, mean, something to fear
that moment many caught in
stuck in
psychological psuedo science
of your psychological music store guinea pig
pure innocence turned into smut
the cycle continues
the need and desire to express oneself as an individual
as an adult
targeted
the media blamed
talk shown
sex and diamonds
even the rich in chains
i might be craving my own identity
of who i am going to become
the confusion of a future that i might not be
what i think i will be
the fear of what if
and that is the grudge we carry for soo long
puberty and confusion
nothing to do with attractions of what sexes you prefer
the armslengthing of what your society is keeping underneath
underneath the sex and diamonds
of this sinking ship
the one your on
you never let on
the cycle continues
name calling
lost friends
lower self westeem
searching for approval
inbetween the sheets
for this is adult hood
this is aldultry
love the sinner not the sin
innocence held hostage
who gets the blame
you get the blame
psychological grudge of sex and diamonds
kings and queens under your thumb
wont be long til the blind lead the blind
and were onto something else
craving approval
the feeling within needing to be identified known as me
i am not able to leave myself
and i wont
i will stand strong through this war
of psychological anarchy
til i set myself free
i may not know the future of the adult i may become
or the truth of everything in this world
the knowledge of how many people on this boat licking their wounds
by rubbing it in the same salts
and hurting eachother equals nothing solved
sex and diamonds of the media
target of puberty
babysitter of the media that never grew up
to transform into the prince from the frog
so back into the pond
back into the pond
psychological grudge of the masses we all victoms of
sexual addicts
craving to suppress our individuality
cigarettes and drug abuse
when all i wanted was to be me
psychological grudge of sex and diamonds
consumer of denying how unbelievable i be

I know....there are places I speak and areas I listen and I found the reasons behind the
colors
of Sarah's hair.
I could fly, I used to run so fast down staircases that were carefully carpeted with the
shades of blue my mother found....
....beautiful....
that my toes would lift and my arms would capture the breath of words that would never
speak themselves, the magical exhalations of things one should never say....
I'm terribly careful, darling, to never skip over the numbers, to never discuss why......
I know......the end result of speaking when my mouth is never noticed, I am well aware of
how light pink lip gloss accentuates words and I feel you when my promises tumble, head
over feet, head over feet....
down....
carpeted stairs.
Who was he?
The questions appear to me in dreams and the answers write themselves across walls I
hadn't read since I was eighteen but I have the photographs, you know....
I have full color pictures that document the changing of eyes and the fading of youth, I
keep them in boxes and in files I should have never cropped, despite my knowledge behind
the years....
I have tumbled through....
my hair never tickled my heels in ways that girls who turn themselves upside down do, I am
backwards....
you see, I have broken the hands of digital clocks and watched them through mirrors as
time deceives those who never figure out reflections......
but I told them, I taught him how to read the letters that never appeared
on the closet wall in the room that was above
twelve
carpeted
stairs.

In front of newly glowing fire__the warmth
Fills the area in very front
Family draws close_warm against cold
Time today flew as trees were cut (down)
Cut just to the perfect length to burn
On the open fire of night's desire
These hours of story telling__laughter
Make up for labor of timber felling
Time spent at the well drawing water
Here now time for discussions
Story-telling, laughter, memories
The fire softly lighting Mother's eyes

SEA TO SHINNING SEA,
...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time is...so close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
...this is so intimate of dreams,
dreaming reality,
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
sparkles,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
...gazing
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
being so true...
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
Sea to shinning Sea.
mb(2011)

Born a wee bit 'early' like a crocus
covered in the snow of March
and unwelcome stranger am I to a
clue less world, child of the Jew.
A wee bit early for proprieties sake
yet, Mother never admitted such
to her dying breath.
Bit 'early' the Mainiac's
would say "ayah?"
like a daffodil in a soft, wet, ripe
spot of humus in the sun.
A bud of brightness, but, out of place.
Crocus croaking beneath the weight
of prejudice a hybrid combine
of drink and mind
covered in the after birth of woman.
In the snow's furnace Mother was born also.
Child of German extract and Mayflower heir.
Of March mother new little, raised at the foot of Mt. Battie
and unwelcomed except by she was the
stranger.......
Am I not, the child of 'pickled madness', aye.
To a clue less world was I born.
Clue less as to the exotic mix
world child as are so many now
of the Jew.
* New Form each line begins with words in order
taken from the first verse.
**See About the Poem

slither slider sluge
from the quagmire to the dust
we stand to face the mountain
with the rage of shadows past
I am anger I am pain
I heard the shadows
felt the rain
caste the feelings out in vain
listen to the words I say
feel the warmth of summers day
we fight again a waste of time
why should it be this way
slither slider sluge
perhaps we leave the dust
a ray of like a slight decay
perhaps I see the light of day
We took unto this home of ours
a child of the night
a child caste in shadows past
his light of slivers plight
His cry within the wilderness
I could not turn away
and yet with money speaking
we could not have him stay
begone the the thoughts of money
I could not turn away
I could hear the child heart crying
I had to let him stay
my heart reached out to cover him
in mantels of my soul
together we must shoulder then
the defects of our gaols
And yet we see the start of light
the growth of wisdoms road
as school results begin to shake
the devil from the toad

In my head there's an echo of the past,
Reminiscing memories of the last years,
My childhood's fading, now disappears.
In my heart I know nothing can last.
Living through moments of these years
In adolescence I am now switching gears.
In my mind there's a ghost of the past.
Growing into times of tomorrow's years,
My future being only crying joyous tears.

Amidst the heavy rains,standing here I'm,
Holding my hands together ,hoping to be fine.
Walking through the streets ,repenting upon the past,
thinking what to do next,and when did I smile last.
Nothing seems to strike,nothing going my way,
however hard i try,no use of what I say.
To whom shall I show, the scars of my life,
the pain of which ,increases my strife.
I have reached a stage ,at which I can't turn back,
to fulfill my wishes which my life lack.
Now I wish sometimes,I still had been a boy,
to be loved by everyone,filled every moment with joy.
But time and again,reality comes back to me,
and amidst heavy rains I'm again on a crying spree.

How come mothers scold?
How come mothers yell?
Then when they say they love you,
Sometimes you just can’t tell!
And sometimes when they yell all day,
“I hope you burn in hell!” you say.
But then you have that talk,
And then you feel so bad.
You try to go apologize,
But think that she's still mad!
So you let her blow off some steam,
And pray it’s not as bad as it may seem.
You start out by saying, “Sorry,”
‘Cause you’re trying to be mature,
But the rest of it just won't come out,
And you’re feeling insecure…
You throw away your fears,
And express the rest in tears.
You know what you did,
And you know that you were wrong.
You've let your feelings out,
You know that you've been strong.
You pray she understands,
Your punishment is in her hands.
You regret those things you've said,
You say things when you’re mad.
But you've made matters better now,
And for this, your mom is glad.
She gives you her forgiveness,
And so your guilty feelings grow less.
So when your mother scolds,
And when she starts to yell,
Just know it’s ‘cause she loves you,
In case you just can't tell.
So when you feel like you’re in a ditch,
Remember, “Tough love can be a – well, you get the point I’m trying to pitch!”

I never sought your money, never sought your gold
all I ever asked, was for the truth to be told
while time has passed, my hope has faded
G-d only knows, how long I had waited
Memories I have as a little boy, once happy just to play with my toy
but as I grew up my mind did ponder, if truth really existed over yonder
reaching adulthood I saw for myself, the lies which my soul had been fed
only by the grace of G-d was I prevented, my steps to purgatory from being led
Now I am older, being blessed with a family of my own
left with so many questions, and still very very much alone
perhaps if only I could make sense, to understand who you really are
a chance to at least to be able, with hope to remove this scar
And you my forebearer, although you brought me into being
you gave me my strength, but my faith gave me my seeing
but now your are old, and you can no longer pretend
despite our relationship, gone is the ability for me to mend
Those missed opportunities, now my mother is no longer
only after her death, did I realize she made me stronger
my internal tears how inconsolable, when this truth set in
oh how much I failed to honor her while alive, this my sin
"Honor thy father and thy mother", have we been commanded
for no other reason or purpose, other than He has demanded
no matter how much grief or anger, you feel from you they deserve
avoid bringing punishment upon your soul, your anger do not preserve
Lessons of a lifetime, skeletons in the closet we all do hide
varying durations of time we have been pained, in whom to confide
there can be no escape, for our actions will we be judged
how difficult to overcome our ego, to this we can't be budged
While we cannot go back, stopping those hands from turning time
but we can seek to redirect ourselves, focusing toward the sublime
charity starts at home, therefore it's for our own ultimate good
eternal bliss really does await us, if we but only understood

Why does my soul ache this time of year
hoarfrost on brown grass/icy chill in the air
feeling all should be calm yet filled with tumult.
Why are ghosts of Christmas’ past
still haunting when joy was always shattered
by demon rum/angry words
ripped a child’s flesh/soul
unaware it would haunt for decades.
Is it wrong to love And hate
want/shun/pull/push?
Great pains and sorrow masked in
childhood joy/laughter.
Leave me please leave the child who is within me …
Let him grow to be a man
without guilt and sorrow
over nothing he could control nor want to.
I cry out to my maker
how good he is yet …
how i still am pained by anger within;
is it the demon or the man,
is it self-pity or imagination …
Fantasy or reality
children play in the distance on loan
just a while/no pain should touch them
or entice them the world should
be alive for them
to explore with no bandits
awaiting them as prey.
Why is it so
what is my role in this
world/
guide
messenger?
In what sense do I …
change them/
to what extent will i
become a part of them
do they want to caress or shun
Emulate or emaciate
oh hear my cry great father
what is my place and where does it fit?
Thy will be done …

“I just shot a fiver” my friend said. “No you didn't” I replied. “It was only four”. “Was so” he said. “Was not” I repeated. And so it went as two young boys stood at the waters edge, skippin stones.
Time was not so precious then and hours could be lost in simple games with rules made up as you went along. You entertained yourself, limited only by the constraints of your own imagination. Some old wheels off of a cart and a few pieces of wood became a racer, hand powered of course. A piece of rope became a swing and inner tubes were prized.
It was a time when you did not buy your fun. Every neighborhood had one football, and between us we had a collection of baseballs, bats, and gloves. Pick up games were commonplace, springing up spontaneously, and yes, upset the wrong kid and he would take his ball and go home.
I thought of these things the other day while strolling along the shores of Crystal Lake near my home. From somewhere within the reaches of my memory, I heard a voice say “bet you can't shoot a fiver”. Not one to forsake a challenge, real or imagined, I stooped and picked up a few smooth and flattened stones, and proceeded to skim them across the water. Years vanished and for just a few moments I got lost in yesterday.
I'm sorry to say I did not shoot a fiver. In fact, the only thing I got was a sore arm, and, of course, the satisfaction of knowing that the kid in me was just fine.
Bob Quigley
October 7. 2011

She was just 8 years old
With freckles on her face
She was a little tom boy
Playing miles from the U.S base
Her name was parwana
Means butterfly in afghan
She was like a little princess
Born in a cruel land
She was with other children
Just playing under the skies
But they look like terrorist
to a robotic drone as it flies
So they all were killed
With bombs falling from the skies
Then Washington says on TV
It’s a mistake we apologize
We apologize for your lost?
How will that ease the pain?
Of the parents not seeing
Their little love ones again
Her mother cries oh god
Why don’t you kill me instead?
How can I live now?
That my little butterfly is dead
These are our children
Not a horse or a cow
Go look your self in the mirror
Who are the terrorist now?
The British prime minster
Says the terrorist will be beat
From his press conference
From NUMBER 10 Downing Street
The white house says
There will causalities of wars
While all the war mongers
Are safe behind their doors
Her father mourns her death
Till his cant live no more
So he drove a car with bombs
Thru the green zone door
There are good and evil
And we know what evil do
But when the good do the same
Then who is better than who
The lives of the innocent
Are being taken by both sides
And today there was a butterfly
Who will no longer flies?

the first time the doctor said to me you're going to be a mom
the first time I felt my child stir in my womb
the first time I looked at her when they placed her on my stomach
the first time she smiled at me and I knew it was not gas
her first tooth, her first step
the first time she said "Mama"
her first sleep over and I called every hour to see if she wanted to come home
her first pajama party and she would not allow me in the room
her first crush, her first heartbreak and we talked about boys over ice cream
her first menstrual cycle and I gave her that talk about the birds and the bees
the time we went shopping for her first bra
and she chose the one with the little pink bow on the front just like I did
her first car date and I had more information on that boy than the FBI
her first prom and I took so many pictures
that my husband snatched the camera out of my hands
the first night she was gone away to college and I cried and worried all night
until she called me in the morning and told me how great everything was
the first time she told me she was seriously in love and asked for my sage advice
the first time I meet the young man, who I thought was taking away my baby
and found out he was perfect for her
the first time she told me she was getting married and she showed me the
engagement ring and we both jumped up and down with glee
the first time I saw her in her wedding gown
and I couldn't speak over the lump in my throat
the first time she told me she was pregnant
and she was so scared and excited at the same time
the first time she placed my granddaughter in my arms
she looked at me, kissed my cheek and said "Mommy I love you
and I pray that I will be as great a mom to my child as you were to me"
the first time I realized that this vibrant, intelligent young woman
is the essence of me, a legacy that will continue on in my grandchild
the first time I said, "Thank you God, we did good".

The babble of youth
grouped in gaggles like pecking geese
pricked by the silence of the unabsorbed,
garbed in the flesh or cloth too large
or too small for their burgeoning minds.
Gangly limbs akimbo
intent, inward…looking outward
flung like a sling-shot’s stone… forward
brimming with all too human DNA.
Stilled… a pensive brooding deepens
bonds of childish chatter break as Mother Goose clucks.
Heads are stabilized by, held up by white-knuckled fists,
free-hands continually rove the groomed while grooming
furrowed brows knit scattered kernels of thought.
The soft-shelled few gaze glazed, dazed
contemplate the ground unfulfilled
ponds of thought mine the mirrored depth
the hooded eyes of the limb-crossed
capping a fountain of chi…

Oh Yeah! I know I am wrong,
Oh yeah! You won’t come along.
I know I never followed rules,
My beauty & mind are only jewels.
Oh Yeah! I’ve been hated for my attitude,
I know, my life will be lonely song.
I know you love me, I know I love you.
But you will not come along.
Oh yeah! I know baby I know I am wrong!!

Admit it, innocence--
You don't much like my self-revelatory meanderings,
or my opaque references to the grist.
Not everyone is near-sighted these day,
making excuses as they go.
There is the sound of rain on a tin roof,
the smell of hay in the loft.
These are not the best of times.
These are times of wanting more than life
can give a teenage child.
Saturdays, we all wait for the mail
while enduring a prison of our making.
Surely there is mail with answers
to life's enigmas.
Surely something is pounding on the lane.
Come out, my fair companion, loneliness.
Let us make chili,
hot and spicy.
It will feed the restless wanderer,
who wanders in spirit
when the body is contained.
Out in the sun sprinkled morning
we go waging, chasing like a dog, saying
Fetch me! Fetch me!
But unlike a dog, we do not submit to fences.
More like a lion in the winter,
the child roams the woodland.

Part I:
I stand here looking out across the land;
So vast and yet is covered by one hand.
I turn my head and gaze up at the sky,
Through endless heights that spiral up as I
Turn round and hear them coming from afar,
But never knowing what and if they are
The ones who, from the web of time, were spun
As I see that my journey has begun.
Part II:
I stand upon a mighty post up high
And look upon the world below.
Across this world I cast a critical eye
And ponder all that you don't know.
They all are sanctimonious as they
Preach things of which they never thought.
They teach it all but they have lost their way;
Within their dreams they have been caught.
Stop wasting time and turn your thoughts instead
Towards the thing we know for sure;
Awaken blinded minds within your head
And you are wiser than before.
Part III:
I have emerged from in this life
To see the light of darkened skies.
I leave behind both love and strife
And whisper all my last goodbyes.
I spit into the eyes of those
Who have helped me to realise
The things in life that no one knows,
When all we see and hear are lies.
You look at me but who looks back
Behind dead eyes; forever closed?
Your mind is still under attack;
All happens just as I supposed…
From when I realised the truth:
Ongoing death is greater than
The disillusioned dreams of youth;
All left is just one empty man.

Manitou slides
Doppelgänger silhouette
Ballet prides
Twisted contorted pirouette
Pierrot dolls glare twingingly
Stare wistfully from shaded mottled space
Ventriloquist disgusting tricks
From two deceitful
Face
The magicians hook
Stare garishly
Whilst he wilfully reels in
Audience of ooh faced crowds
Doused in doubt, at just whats
Happening
A rocking horse
It squeaks the boards
With no child on its
Back
And forth to kiddie Hell
Wooden teeth, a glare, a smile, a crack
Puppets is as puppets does
Whilst someone cuts the string
A slumped doll, hair shorn
Skipping rope to swing
The troll which lay beneath the bed
Fumbling hands to grab small feet
Spiders who crawl purposely
To join beneath the sheets
But worst of all
Most worst of all, the dreaded curtain smiles
Which changed within a gentle breeze to something thats
Most vile

Training in a classical sense
means looking at life through an
infinite hallway lined with the
statuesque but long not remembered
at least for vision or presence
but more likely only legend whether
by grace or by downfall
A hallway endlessly in need of revolution
yet never conscious that the movement
burgeons from within and underneath
and often in the least moral of places or
attitudes
This tutelage regarded as a ticket to
opine using tradition blindly as a substitute
for enlightenment and with little hope of
rotation For the religious mind-space craves
its settled location and scorns interruption
of the foolishly transcendent
Therefore to bed with the schooling whose
origin of mass itself beckons questioning for
the philosopher though no original retort is
to be found from the body that answers less
than completely

Every day in school
They would pick on him
And threaten to kill his mom
If he reported them
The constant abuse
And the physical attacks
For months he took it
And the teachers all turn their backs
The shame and humiliation
His peace of mind and sanity is gone
The hurt in his heart
While the girl he likes helplessly looks on
The frustrations of the parents
Seeing their only child health decline
And the teachers who turn a blind eye
Telling them everything in school is fine
The attempt of suicide one night
When the father saw him with knife
Asking if he will go to heaven or hell
If he takes his own life
The tear of the kidney
For the force of the kicks and blows
The lost of appetite and weight
The suffering only he alone knows
But he did open his mind he said
I can’t got through another year like this
And when they were arrested then many
Told the press what they had witness
Today he is trying to get back his life
But his road is pave with bad memories
And sometimes he almost reaches the end
And then get scared of the shadows of the trees
Then he is right back where he started
And then he has to start again with frustration
Sometime lashing out at his parents and family
Trying to get some much need attention
Looking at him very quite sitting alone
Wondering what’s going on in his poor mind
And wishing to that one day god will
Bring him the peace he so much wants to find
He is a fighter and his will are very strong
Yes today he is along way from there
And I know that eventuality the time will come
His smile will return that has now disappear
The war must be over for now
But every day he has a battle to face
But in the end he will be victorious
And get back his life that has been misplace
So many kids has and are being bulled
And some are talking their own lives
For when you feel all hope is gone
Then it’s very hard to survive
They are sick and tired of the abuse,
and they little minds fought so hard, so very long,
And was just couldn’t make it
through the pain, and stayed strong.
I wish all students will look after the weak
The ones who are very quite and shy
And if the teachers and students do this
Then so many of our children will not have to die

Cicadas' songs in still heat
evoke the ghosts
of childhood
Bring to birth nostalgic thoughts
times far removed
A simpler life
child's eye view
all mysteries accepted
Each day a calm
perfection
Which grew into itself, then
vanished
into its nightfall
The self I then was wandered,
stumbling towards adulthood
And even now still haunts me
when cicadas sing
and children laugh
Somewhere in the hazy heat
Somewhere in the white distance

The sun rises and the sun sets
a new day comes, yesterday forgets
a loving kiss and warm embrace
two souls joined, face to face
Time passes, feelings change
no longer exits, this warm exchange
further on, and still growing more apart
forgetting all that love, they had from the start
Now although they consider to divorce
thoughts of their children cause them remorse
so they make decisions attempting to find a way
to limit any pain, that their children will be okay
Despite their good intentions, they think they know
but only their children feel the pain that will flow
that day finally arrives, the one you were told
it could never happen, it would never unfold
The stark and painful reality, some adults never see
they give up too easily, and for what, just to let egos be
if they only had the wisdom to open their hearts and be free
to learn this meaning called compromise, and make their love agree
Yes, my friend, you're thinking how you relate to the words of this poem
deep down your know you too are a survivor, and that time has shown
you grew up with that pain, asking yourself what purpose was it all for
the answer is clear, do not let it happen to your own as it did to you before

Where are you hiding?
Innocent little boy
Gone?
Never had a home?
Floating wraith of memory
Are we really related?
We should become friends
You need a connection
Some way out of childhood
Why haven't I seen your need
Given you jelly bread and hope.

Your hair. Your eyes. Your last name.
What else did I get of yours father?
Your temper?
No that's mothers, it's obvious.
Your love of music?
We'll never know.
Your love of motorcycles?
Well I'm not quite there yet.
Your hate of caring for small children?
Yes, yes I got that father.
Did it hurt you to say “give it up”?
Because it hurt me to know
I would do exactly the same.
Am I like you father?
Why yes, yes I am.

That still fresh old photograph of you
astride a spotted pony, bare feet
dangling as limply as your torn dress:
the background was a high veranda,
cool green trimmed with gingerbread.
A small boy sat the animal with you --
two solemn and handsome children
upon a well-fed pony, photographed
by an itinerant in the thirties --
the time frozen as long as the picture
or our fading memories of it may last.
The boy, our brother,
did little in his forty years;
but now, we see his boy's eyes,
soft, liquid, serious, sad,
no hint of smile about them;
we weep his loss.
And you, sister:
alert, protective, girl's face
set to fend off the world --
cast so early in your role
as the family glue
holding us all together.

Drowning myself in contemplation
I began to drift into meditation
Sincerity
Trust
Hope
Elation
Was my upbringing bound to permutations?
Laughter fills my thoughts,
Children play hop-scotch across an eighties playground,
Full of wonderment are our childhood memories;
I still see the steam rising from the man holes of New York
Clutching at my mothers arm waiting for the train
How about the lush beach of Tobago
My skin burning from endless exploration of the great blue
Then we grow up…..
Experiencing change and then more….
Change
Start thinking from a higher angle,
Separating innocence from rationality
We consider true light, but too early for that!
Playing starts to get reckless
When you are eighteen and living away
Far too special to sleep
Definitely too cynical to speak
I own the world
Before the first heartbreak tears our insides apart
Just like those intoxicants I had last night
Letters of failure flutter through the door
Time to go home they read in invisible ink
Denial comes to an end
Pick up the phone
“Hey Mum, Dad…thought you could help me out…”

Weeping Willow tree,
wave gently over me,
hide me from the breeze.
I wish to serve cake, peppermint tea,
Delighted you munch so happily
no other place, I would rather be..
then sheltered in wispy custody.

He asks me all the time
Mom why did you leave dad behind
I told him it was never the plan but, you dad is not ready to be a real man
Like attend doctor's appointment or take you to the park
Or a trip to the beach to play in the sand
Or make trips in your room to turn on the night light because your scared of the dark
On Christmas and birthdays no cards or no toys
But the worst part of it all you never even call and when you do your a lying fool
Making promises that you know you will break
How much more do you think we can take
So I'm ending this now for my son's sake
Your a dad in the past and your lies were a blast

My small pristine flower, crushed while yet a bud.
My young innocence stripped, left trampled in mud.
Walk away. Collect your cash, no emotion for me.
Little body bruised, torn with blood. Drugged blind, you do not see.
Daddy, why did you do it and why don’t you care?
You helped them shred me, then turned away and left me bare.
I am only a small child. I am too weak to fight back.
Tied to a dens table, men’s eyes, hands grope, and lips smack.
Manhood against young maiden, tiny body burned by the rope.
This, a grand hellish party with drink and much dope.
Why do you abuse me, and just what have I done?
You began this cruel nightmare when I was but one.
Four years spread like thin butter, passed like a hat.
Left to fend for myself, a small, hungry, dirty stray cat.
For the rest of my life, I am damaged because of your sin.
Thirty one now, still, life is a night terror in which there are men!
Summer Gratias

There was a king adorned with jewels,
Young and handsome, an age of merely thirteen;
He walked the garden yards
And singled out red rose’s blooms,
Not the yellow, pink or white,
Only red roses, and only the blooms;
He played with trick kites, flying helicopters, and
Wooden blocks—building castles, islands, and towers in the sky;
He rode his bike, steering the wheels, staying in the boundaries,
Every day, up and down, up and down the pebbled paths
And slightly rolling hills;
Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock,
But for him—he kept no time;
Sitting quiet, sitting still, he reads his verse,
One line, the next line, one line at a time,
And with the final word read, he wonders a great deal—
About being born, about how to live,
And death that comes across the times;
An elegant sunset, and changing of the light,
He runs across the lawn for his telescope,
And maybe, just maybe, he might eat a little cantaloupe;
Feet in flight, and much to his delight,
A wish to greet the evening stars came true,
He gazes into the nighttime sky,
He does not even question as to why—
Whoosh—his day did disappear, and time did fly.

Words bounce inside
Calming the breeze
Believing things will come
And holding out for what I cant see
Stories told and fables unfold
Coloring the books I read
Imagination struck with the
Hands of time waiting to be free
Birds chirp their notes of a song
Floating on the clouds pillow
Weeping and whistling
Tears of a lonely willow

I look in the mirror and see the years gone
I can look beyond the glass out the window
To the yards of my childhood
I can smell the flowers and feel the grass ‘neath my feet.
I can hear the music blasting on the radio
Mama callin’ me for supper.
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town.
The town is small and so are the events
You’re everyone’s business
You can get a break and can’t get away
You don’t even have a say
You go to and from and people protest
And those same people will still put you to the test
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town.
I made it to the big town K.C,
Got myself a husband and a son and a place to live
Settled in and made a life, got a career
I swear I’ll never return to my best friend
Comfortable where I stand,
Happy where I am
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town.
Well times are hard,
And people are ruthless in this cut throat time
Jobs are scarce and bills run high
You never know what you’ll hear at night
The people are small in this big town
Yeah people are small in this big town
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town.
I guess the town is small
Just good ol’ boys and girls havin’ fun
Small place, small town, small world
People may talk and people may watch
But the biggest thing in that small town
Are the people after all.
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town.
-Heather Birdwell 9/22/2009

In the art gallery where sharp-edged women
stop their strides abruptly before famous paintings
... of colored squares-
In discussions of a novel, where sex is not exactly
sex, only a metaphor we squint eyes at eachother
across wooden tables, desperate to see-
In conversation, where the surety I felt for you
has faded to an ache across my ribs,
faint, but still not nothing-
In a shape-shifting world
where I am taught the shades of
subtleties in the tipping-forward of a smile,
skin striking skin, and
red against blue,
I only want to be white on white,
a small child with a red hair-ribbon
frantically scribbling smiles
in bright yellow crayon.

I was sixteen when the finch stopped singing.
The sweet melody suddenly transformed
as if it was cracked like a broken bell.
I couldn’t hear the sweet song anymore.
My father bottled my ink in dirty jars.
He locked my pens in the darkest corner
of the birch box cut from a tree outside.
Maybe it was where the bird sang to me
He told me to go outside like other boys.
But I didn’t seem to listen.
I could still hear a finch singing.

Your name is misery
here to haunt me in my dreams
In my waking hours and in my sleep
Nightmares and worst fears
of course you can make them come true
For
Your Name Is Misery
You are the demon
That called himself a dad
You are my illness, my shame, guilt and pain
I cannot shake you
I try to run but you always catch me
I try to hide and you find me
Your Name Is Misery
You are the cause of my pain
I used to blame myself
But lately I have found I am not the one to blame
I was a child
Innocent and helpless
when you took my dignity, my life my sanity
Your Name Is Misery
You have presented yourself in many forms
The school counselor who tried to violate me
The Father figure who molested me
The strangers who forced themselves on me
A gang paid to rape me
A Fiance who beat me
And killed the child inside me
The voices that torment me
Your Name Is Misery
You have so many faces
It would take my whole life to paint a picture of you
And quite frankly
I don't want to waste my time on you
I just want to forget you
Your Name Is Misery
I wish I could get away from you
Break away from your grasp
Take away the control you have over me
I hate being under your spell
I hate the pain you constantly cause me
I hate crying because of you
I hate the darkness you bring with you
Most of all
I hate you
Your Name is Misery
That is no lie
There is no mistake
You bring havoc, drama, and chaos
All the things I despise
I don't want you near me
I don't even want to look you in the eye
Your Name is Misery
I am afraid of you
I can't stand you
most of all
I am mad at you
for you have made my life a living hell
But no more
I am cutting you out
I have never wanted you around
It is high time
I got rid of you
It's time to stand my ground
I am going to take you down
I don't need you
I never want to see you
Get out of my life
For I am not going to let you bring me down
You are not welcome here
Your Name Is Misery
By: Jean Shular

Sometimes I sit and watch them
running through the yard.
I just can't stop from smiling
and saying... "This aint that hard!"
I would'nt trade a minute
of this work that must get done.
Because throughout the hardest times
so often comes the fun.
How can we call this "working"
when we get to see the joy
that spills out of each smiling face
of our two girls and boy?
I'm tired, sore, and cranky.
This is very true...
I just remind myself each day
the importance of what I do.
The time they're young goes by so fast.
You blink and then they're grown.
But if we do the best we can,
we'll never be alone.

The teenaged years are the years
we miss the most,
When friendship was everything,
without it we felt lost,
The yearning to fit in
by saying the right things
brought us temporary happiness
and sometimes grief,
Yet, we always believed we would turn
our awkward lives around, and change from
being the class clowns, rejects or misanthropes,
Our youthful days can never predict the people
we will grow up to be.......
Because with each year that passes our personas
are still evolving slowly.

Mrs. Fallicker
a Gurnsey dairy cow
chewing her gum cud,
laughing
moo laughs
about Bobbi
the first child in our class
to eat paste.
I walk amongst them
with my eager thoughts
tracing J's in dust jackets
with my pinky finger
eating letters,
A's like dry cheerios.
The gloss
of library book pages
thick with the musky smell of
forest floor
moss.
This school is foreign.

tick. . . tick. . talk the time today
busy a great gather of
basketed flowers
that might move us towards
great outlawed-metered parked cars
ticketing themselves
and twist. . . twist your fire-hydrant wrist
while the streets look the other way
simple lack-luster
awaits your perceptive 50’s point of view
but it’s all the daughters that decide
off which part of concrete to part with
and wake up
in which car to ride in

Be careful what you wish for even as a little girl
When prayers are sent out they are heard
With a heart of gold behind every word
The answers will come to the questions you ask
Even if they are from a distant past
Maybe not now but in years or weeks
You will end up getting what you seek
Your wishes will change as you grow older
Reality sets in and hearts grow colder
Once you see that you have the favor of the powers that be
Youll wonder if youll ever be free
Of the life and dream you so desperately wanted
How will you wield the responsibilty
Without leaving a trail of the broken hearted?

~Turn Back Around~
Sad eyes looking up at us
How can we ignore them?
Walking away like they don’t mean a thing
Like the ones who already hurt them
They are crying out for someone to notice them
Love them
Take care of them
Lonely children of the world
Being walked away from
Isn’t it about time we
~Turn Back Around~
The child who had to runaway just to get away
From the beatings
The nightly visits from a stranger in their bed
The drunken rages
The Terror they were raised in
A parent who molests them
Innocence taken
Yet we don’t even hear them
As they cry out for help
It is time to
~Turn Back Around~
Give them a chance
Listen to what they have to say
A home to call their own
Safe from the abuse
Safe from the terror
A home filled with love
A place to grow
In comfort rather than fear
Off of the streets
Away from the danger
That is what they are wanting
All we have to do is
~Turn Back Around~
Quit ignoring those
Sad eyes looking up at us
Do what is right and
~Turn Back Around~
By: Jean Bonella

I am the flight of the wind
you would not see
t'were it not for the string you held beneath me
and if the wind you think you understand
lies within the grasp of your hand
then next time that wind should blow
with all your strength
try letting go

Punish me for being who I am
Its only my fault
I asked to be born
Just so I could ruin your life
Judge me everyday at school
I know I dress funny
Because of me my parents are broke
Because everything I do causes them strife
Tell me that im ugly
As you tell me nothing I don’t already know
I hear it everyday from the kids that play
My back is used to that knife
Tell me that im nothing
Ill never be loved cause im a lost cause
Lock me up toss me aside
Ill sit alone with my fife

The young dream their dreams away at night
Hoping they come true
A doctor,policemen,veterinarian and other dreams are developed by the young
Too naive to understand the ways of the world
Determined as ever to achieve their dreams
The old regret the dreams they could never accomplish
They had dreams but unknowingly never came true
You go from living a world full of dreams
To living the reality that is life
Why do we let our dreams die
We were so excited as young kids
At the foot step of our dreams
Were we haunted by the mountain we had to climb
To make our dreams come true
Did we simply quit
Because of society’s pressure
Did money deter our dreams away while we slept at night
Did we let doubt creepy into our hearts
Silently killing all of our dreams without realizing it
Why do dreams die so quickly
When we spent years of our youth
Hoping that we could get an opportunity
To make them come true
Dream big, chase your dreams and never let them die

David
He is not like the other boys
The kind, gentle son, unique
Athlete so gifted since an infant
Older brother’s envy laments if only
I had half his talent …
David
A child so rare so timid loves to snuggle
Swears he will never move away from mom and dad
So special so soft so rugged
Gentle to babies and yet an inner strength
Loves pets, shoes, his siblings …
David
Is he the one after God’s own heart?
Who is vulnerable yet so strong?
Loved by all yet so deep in his thoughts
Where do you get lost my boy, where?
An inner strength yet inner secret grows …
David
Alas, I pray my son stay special
In this world of slings and arrows
To know who he is, what he wants
Why he wants, where he is going
How he will get there …
My David

She sees the pains,
Which her native folk have gained.
She changed from a little girl
To someone who has always had the potential
To change her own little personal inner world.
As a child she never went through
What some other children of her people
Had went through themselves.
She used to never knew how the roots
Of all her people’s issues
Were and are so controversial.
Blessed was she, as a very young child,
For not knowing fully all the reasons why.
Blessed that she is and will always be
Full of feeling, and always quietly wondering “Why?”,
Now she is filled with new knowledge and a developing sense of wisdom
Within her own individual mind.
She is now what she had always
Envisioned and imagined before, since her elementary days.
She is (“I am...”) not entirely that same little girl anymore.
She is now one of the many of that particular kind.
Within her imagination is a longed
Wanting of finally revealing
The truths she has discovered and
How her people must change for the better.
Throughout her whole life, which she’s lived through so far,
She maintains a heart filled with feelings,
A mind filled with knowledge
And a slight emotional immaturity as representation
That her inner child self is still alive on the inside.
Her inner and past child self (who was different from all the rest,
But was also similar to them when at their best).
Never truly knew how far she’d come in life.
(As of right now and forever into the future)
How she has grown and maintained herself
Is how she had made that (her) inner voice in her head and
Had also long ago already acknowledged her true self.
She still stands in her own believing faith and faith in herself
And her lack of prejudice is what makes her naive thinking
Make her own days in her life far brighter than what others say
As they discourage her from doing
Or trying to pursue something grand and part of a divine plan.
Even after times and tribulations involving doubting tremble.
Blessed she is for being so whole in her own presumed thoughts,
Blessed she is for logical thinking based on emotion and feelings.
Blessed she will always be, for Christ himself said to a woman
(who was suffering from something for more than 12 years),
“Your faith is what made you whole.”
Now she thinks...
“Grateful and blessed I am, to the point of tears of joy and sorrow of how I used to doubt.
I now forever know what my life will be like beyond tomorrow.”

A child was born gifted and blessed
Not understood by parents, siblings, and all the rest
Personality traits introverted, shy
Leaning toward melancoly don't ask why
Drawn to music, art, crafts and poetry
Who loves to hear and tell a good story
Feeling insecure, unloved, and misunderstood
Fearing the worst, bottled desires to fit in if she could
Wanting a chance to just use her gifts
And help others not feel misfit
Lives her life in her hometown
Where this woman will never wear a crown

I have this secret
left untold
and to tell or leak it,
I'm not bold.
It's about me
and I carry its shame,
I'm too afraid to
give this thing name.
When I was young,
a little lad small still
I had a taste of poisins
sweetest kill.
I thought it pleasure
such sin to fullfill.
I'm now penitent,
but given to its will.
It shaped my nature
and held captive my thoughts,
creating imaginings that never
should have ought.
It grew worse
as I gave in to curse
that sickens me
in ways I cannot verse,
I wish to ask your help
but than I'd have to tell . . .
and that I cannot do
secret silenced my yell.
I cry alone and noone
could ever concieve the death
that empties me,
until im left with breath
and heartbeat,
but no will to live,
because my secret
killed what I had to give . . .

I think about this past year... It “came and went…”
I wonder that kind of life have I really spent?
It almost seems like yesterday
that I was a young man…
“I had the world in the palm of my hand.”
I had many goals, ambitions and dreams.
I wanted to enjoy life and do so many things.
Looking back on time and how quickly it’s gone by.
I gaze up into the beauty of the stars in the sky.
As I get older and think about another “resolution.”
I find myself with another problem with no “solution.”
I think about a God... Who made all of this a possibility!
He’s offered to me love, hope and tranquility!
I’m going to make a new commitment this January 1st.
No matter if things get better… Or things get worse…
I’m going to give my life and family to God above.
And ask him to bless our home with his mercy and love.
I’m going to try to live for him the best way I know.
And seek his blessings wherever I may go!
I’m going to give to God a love and strong commitment.
It’s only in him where I’ll find true fulfillment!
There’s an important fact, I shall always remember…
God is with me from January thru December!
He will be there to guide each step that is taken!
With him in my life… I’m never alone or forsaken!
By Jim Pemberton

We walk amongst the faithful.
Unknown to human eyes.
So normal and so human,
They can't see through our disguise.
The tears of angels made us
As they flew down from the sky.
They didn't want to do it,
So all they did was cry.
We're stuck amongst the ruin.
The horror and despair.
We've seen a bit too closely
To the heart of Evil's lair.
We walk amongst the faithful.
Unknown to human eyes.
So normal and so human,
They can't see through our disguise.
We're scarred up on the inside,
But outside we're just fine.
We hide the truth so well
They can't see into our lies.
Our daddies were all drinkers.
And when they would get mad,
They'd take it out us poor souls,
And boy were we so glad
When Daddy drank himself to sleep,
And we could go and hide.
Carve another scar into our heart
Which was hidden deep inside.
We walk amongst the faithful
Unknown to human eyes
So normal and so human
They can't see through our disguise.
Our mommies all liked men
Perhaps a bit too much
They sampled fair and far
And didn't mind the touch.
When Mommy fell asleep,
Her boyfriends would come down
And they would scare us half to death
And they'd start to mess around.
And after they were done
Ravaging our broken souls
We'd take our chance to run
And hide from things we'd never know.
We walk amongst the faithful
Unknown to human eyes
So normal and so human
They can't see through our disguise.
Our families are all broken
We have no place to hide
No place to let our tears out
Let out what hurts inside.
And now we sit here all alone
In this dark corner as all hope
Evades our longing hands
We've lost our way to cope.
And now we hide our feelings
And what they've done to every “me”.
We hold our chins up high.
We do not let them see.
We walk amongst the faithful
Unknown to human eyes
So normal and so humans
Can't see through our disguise
We pretend it doesn't happen
We can't let anyone know
Our traitor of a heart
Is something we can't show.
Would anyone even understand
What we hold inside our hearts?
Or would we be a freak show
A different world apart?
Maybe one day we will find one
Every single one of us
Someone who will understand
Someone we can trust.

He was a silent man.
He stayed upstairs, typing unceasingly
and during dinner, mumbled accusingly
nothing ever finished
That evening he noticed,
saw his child sitting in the distance
alone, he crossed the field
He teased; they played,
among the blades of several hills,
a thousand times they rolled,
vibrating
He laughed; they roared
Disney visions, collaborating
goose-bumps; torching recollections.
He taught; they practiced
hundreds, of air pockets among them
they flew like ravens
They went home, and thereafter
He was a silent man;
his child unspoken.

i believe that balloons are free
even tied to strings
they rise above me
i'm pretty sure they want the sun
and ignore the clouds of everyone
i might be mistaken
perhaps not of wit
but if there's a race to the sky
i want to be part of it
perhaps a balloon
has nothing to lose
leaving the ground behind
the problem it seems
when i let go the string
it gets to fly. . . i have to climb

I raise my head to the heavens
praying for rain
washing away the tears, I shed
for this world of pain
I go to sleep depending on something better
but to my disdain
I wake up, only to discover
more of the same
the world's harsh reality
shows itself daily
only to hold me captive
as I wonder what happened
the life I once knew
a young tike
a baby boy
so free, playing with toys
so easily assured
so easily comforted
that everything would be well
even when I couldn't tell
I flashback, seeing the rainbows
after the rain showers
and I remember the growth
of the grass and flowers
I didn’t like rain
back in those days
but now, rain is a sign
that things can grow in time

Once in a while, a cruel, old man
Had stood up in front and had bade me to stand
He'd point out a sentence, instruct me to speak
And my crush would let slip a small, cruel, mirthful shriek
Then my sibilant esses would ring out so loud
And my spittle sailed south 'cross the heads of the crowd
The teacher pronounced my reading a mess
And I couldn't help but feel that I was
Missing something, missing something
All my life I think I missed something
My friends took me out to the pictures tonight
Though I never was blessed with the powers of sight
The score underscored each great scene with aplomb
But I knew from the swells and the claps it was done
In a few moments I had slunk into the night
With a sense in my gut that some thing wasn't right
Right before I would physically run into you
I could not help but feel that I was
Missing something, missing something
All my life, I think I missed
Something big, something vital, something unerringly true
And today I think that something was you
After rainfall I stepped into the sun
It dried off my skin but the cold made me numb
I stepped back to the porch and back into your arms
With a hide dried so thick that your arrows can't harm
I can carry you miles just perched on my back
But my heart and my belly are safe from attack
Intellectually I know that there's nothing I lack
But I can't shake the feeling that I am
Missing something, missing something
All my life I think I missed
Something big, something vital, something unerringly true
But it's something I've forgotten
In a sky so blue

You know a tractor is not a toy
Not a play thing for a little boy
But when cradled in its seat
Life became for me a treat
Behind its wheel I learned to drive
Found happiness in being alive
Released her clutch without a lurch
My world had fullness from that perch
But these are the tales of a day gone by
I remember them sometimes with a sigh
The days grow duller with the passage of time
But these are the memories that make life rhyme
I’ve gained knowledge from scholars face to face
Benefited from their degrees and grace
I gained wisdom on an H Farmall
From an old man in bib overalls.
I have traveled this country far and wide
I have crossed the ocean to the other side
But some of the finest things I ever saw
Were on the farm, with the H, and my Papaw.

Little girl goes down to the water.
Little girl climbs up the hill.
Little girl wanders in the woods.
Little girl collects little things.
Creatures and curiosities.
Puts them in her pockets.
Skipping and running and playing at hunting.
Now and then she stops, and rests.
Her every heartbeat,
her every breath,
conspires with the fragrant moist air,
the rocks and the trees,
to forget her home.
There she waits before the sunset.
She waits as long as she can.
Oh, how precious is this place.
Her refuge.
To the sea and the hills. . .
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.

I remember AUNT B for the way she took care of me when
mother was not home but working
She would take me to Boston on the Orange Line to go
shopping for comic books and clothes for the upcoming School Year
Then,we would go to a Burger King and have the Scramble Egg platter and
Orange juice for Breakfast
Walking over to the Boston Common by early afternoon,we would take a little ride
on the Swan Boats and after that,take the elevator all the way up to the top of the
John Hancock Building and Look down upon the Hustle and Bustle Bostonians
from the view of the Observation Deck
After having lunch near a busy Mass Ave Cafe,we would go on the Green Line
and switch back over to the Orange that would take us out of the city and back
upon our Medford suburb.
Thanks AUNT B
for showing me how the world runs for free

i see it before me
i have not stepped towards, nor walked along its direction
it is clearly there for me to do so
the decision
can stray left or right of the way I go
and all I know
is that it starts
before me

When did I grow so old?
When did the glow from my childhood become erased from my face
to be replaced
by this frown and worried furrow in my brow?
When did my worries turn from homework and drama
to bills, survival, and fears of suicide
(these, I secretly hide)?
I'm afraid to lose myself within this.
But twenty years old is not ancient!
These are the days of high heels, afterparties,
never saying sorry,
and rebellion against authority.
For me, however,
these are the days of feeling like I'm forty-five,
barely alive,
and holding up a reputation I never personally obtained.
These are the days of apologizing for my values.
Apologizing for my emotions,
slightly-intelligent notions
and beliefs.
These are the days of hiding within the four walls of my room,
never alone,
rarely home,
and wishing for a sanctuary.
No family.
One friend on the West Coast
(whom I miss the most).
A lover who thrives in my demise.
When did I grow so old
and began to fear
that, through the veil of tears,
my worthlessness would become contagious?

there’s a curve
at the end of every sidewalk
did you know every block’s
measured by the lazy way a rope
skips and ponytails itself down its own street?
my, how my rope bends
alongside that straight line
six inches above what you call a ‘curb’ under my knees
falling and rising under my feet

Visions come like never before
Stumbling through my head
Like that of a musical note
Floating on the pillows of dreams
Rivers of wishes float down the streams
Washing away the times tick of a tock
Embracing, laughing, dancing between
Swimming in these pillows of dreams
My childhoods gone
How has this came to be
Come and went with times spent
Chasing the pillows of dreams

A sea made up of a million tears...
Drowning whatever comes near
The forgotten and broken soul.
Bitter spirit
Pushing away
The ships of friendship and love
With waves of rage.
Erasing history
And throwing those into a cage,
To make them see how it feels
Being in such inner pain.
High tides flood the land
Never has the bitter sea spirit felt so grand
In destroying all those who had a hard time
Trying to understand.

is it a waking dream?
no,
is it a waking nightmare?
no,
it be the thoughts of the deserted,
those who have nothing left to lose,
the ones who can go mute without a second thought,
the ones whose dreams overflow with the blood of others,
for they are the ones who see the sinister truth,
the end isn't near its always been there,
every year,
every month,
every day,
every minute,
every second,
for you see the end is not when the world ends,
it is the last day you feel complete,
it is the day you feel worthless,
the day you see only the dark side of things,
the moment you imagine slaying the beast of which caused your pain,
for that is the day the innocence known as your "inner child" is finally slaughtered,
and when your become...,
heartless.

My joy at its best, my hurt at its worst.
My joy at your conception and my belly swelling.
My hurt at your birth with waves of contractions.
My joy at your first steps in those booties I knitted.
My hurt as you fell down and bumped your head.
My joy at your first word spoken mama.
My hurt when we argued about a sleepover and you cried I hate you.
My joy over your first report card with all the A’s.
My hurt when you were expelled from eighth grade for possession.
My joy when you took responsibility young man and changed your ways.
My hurt as you leaned on my shoulder and cried over losing your first love.
My joy in your pride after working the summer to buy your first car.
My hurt that you are no longer my little baby but a young man.
I am forever a woman in motherhood,
My joy at its best and my hurt at its worst.
Summer Gratias

A world only meant for perfection
Sophie can Hardly Breathe
Have you ever thought about Imperfection's Beauty?
Don't Look to the east, stay here with me
We are The Sick
We Are The Chosen
Just to see--Just to be
Imperfection's beauty

do you remember
when we were so young
when the fall fell down
and the spring had sprung
when the winter came
and made us so cold
when the summer flame
found us playing and saying
I hope we never grow old..

there is a pond where the water lillies grow
and children weep for their youth,
the silent forces that make the moth
to pebbled thought entombed
in the shifting light of its bed,
and Nowhere is a feeling.
Remember the morning of the bird,
the obscured pane,
where nature died at once, and slowly
even kisses were sharp and revealed
some secret like a moth-wing in a book.
It is here you recall the thing everyone knows,
or pretends to know.

A smile in a thought of a "forever" like this.
A dream from a star's one wish.
A love of a life from a fairy tale one told
To a child with an imagination worth a whole pot of gold.
Can you really put a value to something like this?
Like that feeling you get from your last first kiss?
Or the dreams that come true from a shooting star's wish?
There's no value worth more than all this.
A song from a night from a heart's first glance.
A sway from a dress from a love's first dance.
A rose from a thorn from a child's freedom.
A ring from a night from a tear from one.
Can you really put a value to a moment like this?
To a second in time so carefree as this?
To a heartbeat caused by pure peace and bliss?
To a child's eye lit by a shooting star and a wish?
Could you tell me what it's worth?
Or could you tell me which came first?
Was it hope for a future unknown,
Or happiness from the love that's shown?
Was it a dream from a fairy tale,
Or optimism after every fail?
Because the child that I've never seen
Is one without a single dream.
So tell me,
Can you really put a value to this?
To a first kiss?
A child's wish?
Pure bliss?
To this?
To this moment looking into your eyes?
To a fairy tale defined
By you and I.

When I was one
I stared at the sun
And although I lost my seeing
It felt like fun
When I was three
I drank chlorine
And although I lost my tasting
It felt serene
When I was five
I took a dive
And although I lost my smelling
It felt alive
When I was seven
I played a violin
And although I lost my hearing
It felt like heaven
When I was nine
I took a line
And although I lost my feeling
.

up and down feelings
floor to the ceiling
big and the small
or barely at all
jumble of thoughts
build up like a compost
all of the utmost
useless importance
String me along for days
like ever present
unaware essence
of the magical sun's
scorching lashing out r
shooting through the vacant space
only one destination
like a certain pinpoint revelation
Stabbing back
we surprise attack
the only shock
comes to me as an afterthought...
I hold in the hatred
until it becomes sacred
I inhale the passion
nothing more natural
than my outward reaction
addition through the simplest subtraction
the hate is so hard to replace
what is left to drive me
the anger inside me
I am here because of my rage
brought me to the brink of breakage
just when the point is revealed naked
it disappears, retreating through the hatred
Where is it hiding?
I miss the surge
burning into my every word
the last I remember
I was misplaced, self centered
when the source was discovered
a curious love entered
and drove out the negative
edited and erased

A boy in dark blue
With blue feelings held inside
Always unhappy
Then one day he set his mind
Looking past what others said.
Written by
Cecil Hickman
Written for
Sponsor Francine Roberts
Contest Name "blue"

A keen wail through the madness
pierces a thousand darkened mirrors
reflects a plethora
just too many eyes peering…
In this repression can she awaken?
Through the battered glass
a staircase winds for hours
Tired splintered wood
Rusted nails loosening
and she perceives a danger…
(caution signs were never posted)
Intuition whispers harshly
“Do not step there”
In this repression can she awaken?
Curiosity has killed more than one cat…
but still…she is questioning by nature
Proceeding the broken stairs
images burning from all sides
she sees haunted faces
In a moment of narcissistic sadness
her heart beats out a raucous rhythm
that leaves her slightly breathless
Bare feet encounter splinters
in her “need to know” moment
Hands reach to grasp onto something
and shards of glass stab her skin
A gasp out loud and yet
she still continues this dark quest…
In this repression can she awaken?
Stumbling on, through all the blackness
Glaring eyes inside the glass
(why the pretense of love for her?)
Trembling in sheer terror
She must face what stands atop
Whatever monstrosity greets her there
is her worst fear….
Her strongest adversary….
Whoever waits has destroyed her
and abolished the flowers
that once had bloomed
In this repression can she awaken?
Trying to be silent on tiptoes
(bleeding from the wood)
and hands clenched at her sides
(crimson from the slashes)
The tension like a thickness
in the raw and dank air
Tendrils of hair fall forward
into her tear-filled eyes
Her inner knowing cries out
a panic stricken bellow
In this repression can she awaken?

Thirteen, deemed brilliant...quite attractive,
injecting her poison through the blood of
countless young boys...
boys...calling her home...riding by...
boys...craving her time...wanting her...
But beyond the intellect, she was insensitive
and, at times, brutal.
"Dance with me."
"No way, you're ugly."
"Would you like to go see a movie?"
"No, you're not my type."
Chased...so she ran as distraught boys with
bruised hearts neither forgot nor...
forgave.

Kisses felt:
Moments lost.
Priceless moments
Always cost.
Peace and love:
Childhood wishes.
Friends forever,
Like butterfly kisses,
Never last
More than a day,
Then they all
Fade away.
Dreams, like shoes,
Become too small
To fit our lives
When potential calls.
Kisses felt:
Moments lost.
Priceless moments
Always cost.
Is the price
Worth the pain?
Or worth the strength
We eventually gain?
Of course it is.
Just persevere.
Don't ever stop dreaming.
Don't live in fear.

Many a night in all these years I think of you, moved to tears
Many times made me sad because I really miss you Dad.
Now I am old and realize I wish I could apologize
Forever doubting my father’s love, I still pray to the one up above
So many years ago you died I was nineteen and never cried
I detested whenever you took a drink, not once did I ever stop to think
You had your own dragons to fight; they came out almost every night
Dragons you could never slay, you fought them ‘til your dying day
Now you have finally found your peace, please know my love will never cease
For now, I have kids of my own, learned to love from what you have shown

As she reaches the top stair
bleeding and tattered
a face is in the shadows
Apprehension clenches her insides
like a steel cold vise grip
(Her enemy waits)
In that face lays hidden
all the wasted years
Can she defeat them?
“Step out of the shadows!”
She demands
in a voice fraught with tension
Who would this person be
who had pillaged her heart
and taken her laughter?
Upon moving toward the light
A slant illuminates a face
A gasp emits from within her
Staring into eyes she had always known
Looking into a face
She could never hide from
“Wherever you go, there you are”
Through all the years of terror
and all the anxious wasted space
Her enemy lay within her ….
She looked into her very own face!
Can she now awaken?

I don’t want to talk about mum
About the bonds that tie us together
Like two leaden weights
I don’t want to hear
About how I should be
More this and that
About how I keep breaking the mould
On which you consistently reapply
I don’t want to listen
To how your problems are mine
About how I’m not good enough
About how I upset you
About how I’m not like you
About how I let you down
About how worried you are for me
About how you don’t see me for days, weeks
I don’t want to know
About your emotional strings
Sticky you throw at me
I don’t want to feel
Less than I am
At your expense
I don’t want to reapply my make up
Brush my hair
Wear the coat I hate
And that does not fit
I don’t want an analysis
Or to be told that you know best
I don’t want a hug
Laden with treaties and hidden agendas
I don’t want an empty promise
I don’t want it
What your offering

I don't know
Which way is home,
Yesterday is kept in store
By memory alone,
The inaudible screams
The motionless violence,
They bounce in the emptiness
Of utter silence,
Truth and happiness oscillate
But are not of the same sort,
I'm lost between connotations
But i seem to come up short
On the perceptions of reality,
There's no such thing as rewind
But it feels a never ending torque
Fueled by vague echoes of anguish
Cherished recollections
That race in a loop, intertwined,
Locked into the inevitable
Memories fade to a blur
Everything bleeds into what now is
Did yesterdays mistakes occur?

Lost within the intrinsic woods by myself
No desires, avarice, nor any sort of wealth
Just me and my dog observing together
Oh, how I wish I could stop time forever,
The shady spot i sit below the tall timbers
Evokes memories, recollections, whispers,
Stains of anguish and worries that lay below
The river of time, will wash away as it will eternally flow,
The stream, which, once believed to run wild
Now seems a lion become tame and mild.

Nightmares, shame, and despair---
You don't go anywhere.
All alone in your mind
even with someone by your side.
You think, "Why can't everyone just leave me alone?"
You thought the hint would be cutting off the phone.
But everyone wants you to release your cares.
The next thing you do is frown and ask, "Where?"
Stinkin' thinkin' is what your mom calls it.
Bad thoughts falling down a bottomless pit.
You wake up hoping those feelings disappear;
but, as usual they end up going nowhere.
You can't seem to get rid of the pain
and in your heart an eternal rain.
No one really knows how you feel
and you have friends that always ask, "What the deal?"
But tomorrow always comes.
Bad days for you, but good for some.
Disparaging words flow in and out of your head.
You're alive but you're living like you're dead!
They're like cobwebs in your mind
that you can't seen to bind.
The hurt is always there
which has always been your fear.
You don't see the destruction your thoughts have created.
Yet relationships were destroyed with the people you've dated.
You allowed your pain to take away time.
Your anger towards others has become the real crime.
It all boils down to that one thing in your past.
A terrible time that from your mind you've yet to cast.
The pain from the physical and spiritual rape
that rolled around in your head like an old videotape.
The abuser was like a father to you
and when it first happened there was nothing you could do.
You felt trapped like you could go nowhere.
His power over you was to instill that fear.
The "fear" is what's wrong
and you must discover another heart song.
Up to this point life hasn't been the best.
Maybe letting go of this is the next test.
There has always been someone that has loved you.
Someone who is capable of taking you through.
He's a Friend that sticks closer than a brother,
Jesus--- a Savior like no other!
If you don't give it to Him so you can thrive
you will plummet to the depths and never survive.

This is a poem by my 9 year old son Dylan.
I am a smart kid and a techno geek
I wonder how far space goes on
I hear a dinosaur roar
I see my dog that passed away
I want to see my grandpa
I am a smart kid and a techno geek
I pretend to have one million dollars
I feel my dad hugging me
I touch my mom's brownies
I worry about my parents
I cry when summer's over
I am a smart kid and a techno geek
I understand that my dad has to be deployed
I say aliens exist
I dream that I'm being attacked by a sea serpent
I try to make my life the best
I hope my brother has a good education
I am a smart kid and a techno geek.

I feel like I just left past shadows runaway
Before I grow taller in more ways that my soul needs
I first saw the future's mirror and sweet dreams that still feeds
My wick heart on hope's table that sends me faraway...
It seems to me that rock called sun is alive
Bringing vibes for those poor people who always pray
Without knowing that a stupid wish worth a life
Who goes into a world of forgiveness and happiness, where every angel lays...
My conscience is bleeding and I hear the death's crazy lyrics
My life is a slide show now and my only friend is the misery
When I say faith I hope to see innocence's dynasty
The Christians say I need Jesus touch in my world's roots...
I make mistakes like everyone, but I don't wish perfection
I only need God's angel for protection and affection
Sometimes I miss childhood with his naivety
And regret I'm a beginner is this world full of insanity...

At the age of thirteen, life is carefree
Time to become all that one can be
Life stopped for you; cut off at the knees
Being told very harshly about Huntington's Disease
At the age of thirteen, life is carefree
Ball games, skating, spelling bees
Being told very harshly about Huntington's Disease
The look of grief on your face and the weeping
Ball games, skating, spelling bees
Life stopped for you; cut off at the knees
The look of grief on your face and weeping;
At the age of thirteen, life is carefree

Land where my fathers died,
but was it all in vain,
I'm sure the ones before me cried,
When they call his name...
Some still say we've come so far,
But man I beg to differ,
The games the same the rules have changed,
Just penalties much stiffer...
This house of cards they built with bars,
Are built on the foundation,
That if you build it they will come,
To seek incarceration...
So the numbered ones who lack the sum,
Will forget the taste of freedom,
And glamourize they they've become,
All the reasons we don't need them...

If it's true, and there's another life
That waits beyond our journey's end
I'll hold a place within my heart
And a rocking chair for my old friends
To sit beside a fire at night
And talk about, the stories of another time
Or dream about what might have been,
But either way I wouldn't change
The path that led to my old friends
And if there is another life
I'll wait for you with open arms
Beneath the moonlit sky at night
I'll reminisce and count the stars
Which never fails to take my breath
Each moment when I think of you
And know again I'll see your face
That shines within the summer sun
Or glows within the winter moon
That's seen so many journeys end
With hopes of such a special place
Where friends are never left behind
And faces never fade away
Through time, if there's another life
Old friends would come
And there they'll stay
And bring another rocking chair
For those who pass this way
Kevin D. Fix

Dash through black,
Jump in the sack,
Know a sandy plight.
I cling to three of light,
That beats back the shadows,
That lie in rows,
Along my wall at night.
Enter me of she,
Does she know my plight,
Not too late,
To encourage the hate,
That feeds upon my fear,
As the Witching hour draws near.
And now alone in the black,
A chill runs up my spine,
The bed begins to rock,
An evil under,
And other noises asunder,
As the shadows creep across the floor,
To take from me nevermore.
Now as the noises grew ever louder,
And I could take no more,
At twelve o’clock,
There came a knock at my door.
At the tolling of the bell,
I rose to dwell,
I faced my fear and opened the door,
A dream nevermore.

I remember the day I first saw her face on the school bus such an uneasy place
we both were shy it took months just to talk soon enough we would always walk
from the stop to her house were I d stand uneasy the sweat would pool in my right hand
One night late after school she came to my house I tried to be cool
she asked if I would like to go out of course I did but I was nervous anxious filled with doubt
we spent a whole summer just hanging out some times I got so nervous I wanted to shout
I recall how she first placed her hand in mine I was sweating so bad I was losing my mind
the touch of her fingers in my sweaty palm gave comfort unknown and a relieving calm
I realize now she was just as scared but she seemed so calm ready and aware
she became my very best friend but even I knew the summer would end
before the fall came an took her away we spent time with each other everyday
a few weeks before school started again we went to the park are spot back then
she looked in my eyes for ever it seemed I was confused and young I almost screamed
then she leaned towards me with the sweetest touch she said shed miss me very much
and then it happen her lips searched and found mine out in that moment it removed all doubt
an innocent peek between dearest of friends learning how such things have there ends
after school started that year she moved away I have not seen her since that day
Forever she holds a piece of my heart the innocents we shared was ours from the start
even tho Ive grown a lot since then that young love is for thick and thru thin
we never took not a thing from one another we held each other up learned from one another
I wonder if she thinks of me I think of her and lonely nights I hope she lives happily
youth is something you cannot keep I miss those days on the grass we would sleep
somewhere inside the shy little boy waits for the day he might see that girl once again
the soul that taught me how to love and to be loved how to end and how to begin
I know ill never see her again I know its only memories something lost to the past
if I would have known it would end that way and be over so quick so dam fast
I would have told her more of the true me maybe then Id feel whole at last
sweet first love I hope you find a life of love and find your faith in the god above
she will always been in my heart and mind and for now we must leave us behind

I love how you were my first friend
Right after I came into this world.
I love how you and I had fun
Until the end of our little childhood.
I love how you were another I’ve met,
Everything was good in those summers.
I love how you were like a brother,
Had often traveled to your home and we played.
I love how you were my second friend,
Someone who and I imagined together and communicated.
I love how you would allow me to come over,
And to even let me eat there for dinner.
I love how you were some other pal,
We enjoyed the company of each other.
I love how you and I were so young,
It was almost as if I were your role model.
I love how you were my third friend,
Truly was something wonderful we had.
I love how our bond once was,
Though no longer am I at all sad.
I love how you were all those cousins of mine
Were all young alongside me.
I love how you all made me feel happy,
Back in those days of my child identity.
I love how you were my fourth friend
Right after I reached out to yourself.
I love how I knew you at first seemed as lonely,
No matter how far apart, we have those memories.
I love how you were both born, my siblings.
Prayed for your births: to me that’s how it had to be.
I love how you turned to me for comfort and sleep,
Will always be there to care for you.
I love how you were my fifth friend,
Claimed to free me from what I’ve fought for so long.
I love how you gave me what I’ve sought,
Such fleeting evenings: our moments captivated me.
I love how you were all new people to talk to,
Every conversation helped me become who I am today.
I love how that no matter how I feel, I’m not alone,
Forever grateful for having others to talk to.
I love how you were all my other good buddies,
No life should be without friendly acquaintances.
I love how some of you are close to being my best friends,
You’re worth spending times with.
I love how you, my parents and grandparents,
Were there on my birthday: the sky was clear, sunshine.
I love how you, my family and friends,
Are all people I know and have raised me.
I love how there’s a number of people
I’ve known within my lifetime.
I love how there are those
Who still see me as I was and always will be.
I love how these people
Influenced parts of my personality.
I love how that no matter how I feel,
All those years were real.
I love how you all were there, but I feel alone now.
Every day’s not the same as it used to be.
I love how you’re also always around,
But now I’m strong enough to perceive even change...

She's constantly a dreamer,
Fantasy is where she lives,
Reality is non existant to her,
If only she could see.
She only cares about superficial things,
Popularity is her sport,
Boyfriends are the cheerleaders,
If only she could see.
Her mind is put to waste,
A head as empty as a flower pot,
Education is lost on her,
If only she could see.
She makes fun of the "weirdos",
She cannot stand the "geeks",
But those "geeks" are worth knowing,
If only she could see.
The world is 3-D,
It has depth underneath,
There is beauty under the surface,
If only she could see.
Beauty is not just skin deep,
It runss all the way through,
It's not just looks that matter,
It's how you think and see.

My void is the darkest penetration of childhood.
No memory at all before age of six so fair.
Thine memories might have been bad or good.
Mine has no glimpses, or comparison to share.
Thou shall say this may be a blessing so sweet.
Though my mind has no distinct recall to meet,
No shape of any kind, only fantasy for retreat.
Whilst I travel onward, I am lost in defeat.
My darkest childhood memory is none at all.
Mystery of things I have missed or recall.
I live on in the shadows that make me whole.
I waver on the balance of what does console.
This mind and soul with a spirit that will seek,
Diligently answers for future, my past is weak.
Written for
Sponsor Walayee Whitlock
Contest Name My Darkest Childhood Memory

I slipped into my seat without a sound
A broken radio- I can’t tune in
No one cares to turn their head around
I try to speak, but somehow can’t begin
I’m on a different frequency, alone
Try as I might I can not make a sound
A never-ending piercing dial tone
Still no one ever turns their seat around
I use my words to write down what could be
My written self can leap and scream and bound
I hold her up, so hoping they would see
But no one ever turns to look around
I slipped into my seat without a sound
Because I know no one will turn around

Walking through life all alone,
I live my life in monotone.
Watching the days go by,
I sit and wonder, why?
What purpose do I serve?
What is it to just exist?
Wandering blind in a veil of mist.
If the sun were to shine on me,
Could I open my mind and see?
Would I use my heart and soul?
Would I find what hatred once stole?
Young in life, my innocence lost, taken,
My mind frozen with fear, trust violently shaken.
Unable to shed a tear, my paranoia blatantly real.
Emotions unexpressed congeal.
My eyes leave nothing unguarded,
The real me checked and carded.
Awaiting a person who possesses the key,
To open the door and kill the pain inside me.
Summer Gratias

If Gods favorite hero suddenly became cold,
Lonely, disoriented, unhappy with sorrows untold,
Would it be of interest in Heaven? Concerns of man,
Would our saviors come to Earth to be born again?
God would send out his best hands to hold,
Would he set backwards time to where all heroes spirits were sold.
If only our love could behold
Lined with twine of silver wrapped in gold
Gifts to to God to wash our sin
Equipped pillars stories told
Thoughts about God mirrors my pen

When I'm with one of you,
I just can't have one without the other.
I would love to laugh and have fun together.
But then I see,
That maybe
You two are better off without me.
Because I hear
That when I'm not there,
You agree on most things
And get along. Having fun
Like as if you don't really care
About anything else.
I'm starting to feel
That maybe you secretly hate me
And lie when you say I'm great
And I just don't fit to your appeal and ideals.
I'm sure neither of you felt this loneliness as long as I did
And I usually feel envy for friendships and siblings
That I often see.
You are lucky to be together...

It comes on so fast like a torid rain
These feelings of weakness and unforgiving pain
To keep them at bay, what can one do
Someone give me an answer, or just a clue
Sit and stare, and just stay out of the way
Too many questions, the familiar:are you okay?
Inside, my heart continues to tear
The constant reminder that nobody will care
Breathe in and breathe out, it appears okay
It's night time now, made it through the day
Sleep comes hard, the thoughts are way too much
Racing and streaming the mind seems out of touch
Inside, my heart continues to tear
The constant reminder that few will care
Waking up for another great morning
Not being able to hide, there's little warning
The flood of feelings pour from within
When will this end, so my life can begin
A life of no pain, or just no saddness
Who can help to stop the maddness
Inside, my heart continues to tear
Surely there's someone who'll care

A little girl was walking through a beautiful forest when
she encountered an old woman who was picking flowers.
“Who are you?” the little girl inquired, and she felt magnetized by the woman’s powers.
The old woman looked up at the little girl and said, “I am you when you are old.”
The little girl stepped closer to look at the old woman carefully, trying not to be too bold.
“What happened to your hands? They are all spotted and wrinkled
and your hair is ashen sprinkles.”
“Yes, from all we’ve touched since we were born,” the old woman replied
as she held out her hands for the little girl to exam with pride.
“Do you see where I held my babies? Where I hugged those I loved? Where I created beautiful things to share with my family?”
It was more than the little girl could imagine but she began to relax into her fantasy.
The little girl smiled at the old woman and she smiled back.
“You have lots of lines around your eyes and mouth” but the little girl saw that happiness was intact.
“Yes, they are a road map of every experience I have ever had. Everything lost and everything gained,”
and the lines around the old woman’s eyes deepened when she smiled at her again.
“You are so old. Are you happy? the little girl wondered.
The old woman gathered the little girl to her side and took a minute to ponder.
She looked deep into her little girl eyes and said “My dear child, oh such much life yet to be.
We have had a most wonderful time, you will surely see.”
A thought so wild the little girl was not sure if it could really be.
“Are you going to die soon? The little girl asked, an idea almost too hard to conceive.
“I don’t know when I will leave this body,” the old woman said wistfully.
More determinedly the old lady said, “But I don’t fear death, for this is not the end of me, of us.
You will see. ”
“Will you stay with me?” the little girl asked when the old woman went back to picking flowers.
“I will always be with you. Until the very end,” said the old woman as she handed her a beautiful bouquet of sweet magical flowers.

As Christmas morning dawns
And children wake with yawns
Excitement permeates the air
With nary a worry or a care
While miles across both land and sea
Other children pray and plea
As anguish haunts their waking day
To weak to laugh, to frail to play
Those well fed children, some obese
With gifts a plenty, several apiece
Crowding round the Christmas tree
Happy, joyful, so carefree
While other children, worlds apart
With empty stomach and aching heart
Gathered round an empty pot
Despair, hungry amid stench of rot
Those healthy children with toys and stuff
Some spoilt brats that have enough
Often whining, wanting more
With gifts a plenty by the score
While suffering children without food
In shabby huts both stark and crude
Complain not once about their plight
Yet from so little derive delight
So while we run around demented
Stressing about which gifts to buy
Perhaps it is best that we relented
And asked ourselves to question why
And when we talk of Christmas cheer
Perhaps we ought to shed a tear
And spare a thought to those without
Is this not what Christmas is all about!!!

Pet
Petrified
In a corner
Images are what memories are made of
Sounds add audio for your tears
Precious feelings of the horrible never forgotten
Sit here—listen, this is how I feel
Do you reckon I am now what I remembered I was
Then…
Then knees scrapped, wild hair, grass stains,
Sunday dresses, shiny shoes…
Let’s play dress up
You’re mine
Muse

The day he was born was with excitement and fear,
Of what could become of those held so dear.
The first time we held him and looked in his face,
It was to see a glimmer of Gods True Holy Grace.
A hand so small touched deeply into our soul,
As it wrapped around a finger in a movement small.
We checked every part and in their perfection found bliss.
As in our hands we now held what was part her and part his.
The exquisitely peaceful face beckoned us close,
For nowhere else is pure innocence found in such repose.
As wee little eyes opened to momentarily stare,
We knew this was God’s gift given unto our care.
A smile was enough to encircle our heart,
As we vowed to protect him and never be apart.
He yawned and wiggled and fell back to sleep,
As we were made in his glory almost to weep.
We were once like this child so innocent and pure,
And our family held us like this you can be sure.
Growing up we slowly pull away while exploring the world,
Demanding every thing as the world is unfurled.
How could we have come so far from God’s Grace?
How could we have gone so far in the daily race?
This little gift of life pulls us back together again,
Binding us tightly as no one else can my friend.
Look to your parents and give them a hug,
Then nurture this gift from God’s love above.

Mirror Images
When I look at myself in the mirror,
I see what is not there
According to my clothes.
Why has my viewpoint changed?
I have always seen myself,
As being thinner than I really am!
That nasty fat girl is supposed to be gone,
So why has she suddenly returned?
I am not eating as much,
Due to the stress of moving.
But why has the fat girl returned?
I’m confused!!!
The fat girl is not what
God wants me to see.
He would want me to see
The much healthier, thin woman
I am meant to be.
So why is the 450 pound person,
Showing up in that mirror on the wall?
Is it because we are moving
Back to where I used to be
Fat and ugly?
Only God knows the answer,
What am I to learn?
Christine Stout

a quiet bell tolls from someplace far enough to make it so
carried
by the same delicate current of air
that wafts a perfect mixture
of her sun-warmed perfume
with the runaway scent of a distant thunder cloud
across
a
yearning
yellow
blanket
to an overwhelmed smile
that trembles at the effort
of distinguishing
which is more consuming

If strength is only
How well you hide the pain.
I must be truly strong spirited.
If thinking you want death
Is a matter of being gutsy enough,
Then those who're gone
Were even more strong
Rest in peace,
Yet what've they've done
Shall forever haunt me...

***PROMPT 6b*** THE TALE OF THE HEART'S SWING
You see this ole swing young man
well your grandpa here made it by hand.
Yes sirree I sure did boy
this here ole swing is not a toy.
Dang I even cut down the very own tree
to make this swing for grandma and me.
I put in these curves and little things
I had to have the most perfect swing.
Well I worked day after day
carving and a cuttin no time for play.
When I got er done me and her had a little conversation
in the end of it I told her she was a sensation.
I polished her up til she shone like gold
what I was doing no one knowed.
This was back in nineteen and forty one
that was the good old days son.
I made this here sturdy ole pine swing
for your grandma to make her sing.
See I gave it to her when I made her my wife
and we have enjoyed it in our happy life.
Now listen here close boy I am givin this here swing to you
for I have something that I gotta go do.
Seems grandma is waitin at the Lords door for me
together again the two of us will be.
Now don't cry be a man,and take good care of this ole swing
lotsa life in her yet,take her and give her to your wife and make her sing.
Whatever you do in this world all I ask is for you to pass her on down when you go
this here ole swing is worth more than all of any mans gold.
I'll be a watchin you from up there in the clouds
so come now boy and always know you make your grandpa proud.
Yeah this ole swing could tell you some stories
time for me to go now remember I always loved ya boy.
Debbie Wagoner 2/26/12

I'm sitting here
Surrounded by people
But so alone.
They don't seem to notice my pain
Only concerned with themselves
And their fake friend's gossip.
What went wrong.
I don't have anymore energy
I feel like giving up and
Sinking into the background.
Be ignored or forgotten.
But I want them to care about me
Listen to me.
Where is my confidence
Where is my voice.

Remember when we prayed for snow
To call off school, stay at home
And woke to see the covered roads
A wish that came within the night
A blanket of inviting white
That calls to every inner child
Who wants to have a snowball fight
And build a snowman with a smile
Of twigs and coal to give him life
Remember when we prayed for spring
That brought the sun with longer days
That warmed the grass beneath our feet
While voices laughed as best friends played
Till clouds rolled by and showers came
Then stepped in puddles in the rain
As life were lived without a care
Too young to know of just how rare
Are memories of time and friends
Remember when,
We thought these days would never end
Kevin D. Fix

we made a pact he and i
that wed be best friends til the day we died
things got crazy and life sure changed
he had the baby and i just managed
to continue on with my life
things got bad things got ugly
my life took a turn for the worse
but our pact still remains
true til death
unhurt
do we have any better friends then the ones we had as kids
i dont think so
life was so simple and pure whyd it have to change
i dont know
but the pact still remains
untouched
unhurt
unbroken

I remember the wooden floors of Catholic school;
And the grin reflected in glossy planks;
And how I learned of God, love, peace, white, pure,
But never knew anything else,
A warm embrace of family in the house of God,
His warmth raining on me in the Spring of my youth.
And the friends I had, who were wet with me,
And in the name of childhood
We danced and sang.
But it was a child who shot down
His school, covering steel bullets in blood;
More powerfully covering childhood in the truth:
There is no safe place.
The planks hold doubter’s eyes, now,
The reality that death is for all of us,
That each person holds the end
Of strangers’ worlds in his hands.
If I could take the Hokies,
And all the murdered youth of this greatest nation,
And heal them, I would.
But I did not invent the safe feeling
Only remaining…hopefully somewhere.

Time for me to say
My last goodbye.
If this mind and outlook of mine
Won't change once I leave.
Then I may attempt
What I've been thinking of
From within those past years.
I've isolated myself long enough;
So no one will any longer be as close to me.
I've already written and spoken
My truest of feelings.
Some day it may be time for me to say
My last goodbye to whatever happiness
That has been left behind
Deep within my mind.

I
I am
I am more then what this poem can hold
Broken bones
Empty hands
A full head
Impossible dreams
Do you like making
out?
Hold my hand…
I am your declaration of independence written in skin, eyes, and lips
I am your libertine
Possibly dead air will pass me while I struggle to explain
Don’t leave until you understand
I am a proud kitten who tears at any and every inconvenience to my own
destruction
I, I, I
Me
There is no I in me
Yet my mind is still fully focused on it
It being I
A thing—to recognize by the time I give it away to someone who doesn’t
understand
What it is
What is it?
A chocolate flower on the highest mountain
A lost girl in a field of maybes
A brilliant queen on a throne of a united nations
A coy child wrapped in blue sheets--naked, cold, shy, muddled, afraid, alive, and
unaware of it all
A faithful rarity in a sea of uncommon coincidences
Whatever it is
It is an I a me and all at once…

He loomed large, his white t-shirt bulging,
his apron hanging off an impressive gut.
“Keep stirring,” he said,
slapping me on my back as he wandered off.
Over his shoulder, “Just keep stirring.”
The pot loomed large,
with an equally large wooden spoon.
I stood on a chair and stirred.
The white gooey matter didn’t look like food,
but it smelled creamy,
with a hint of something else.
The spoon moved easily in the pot,
and I felt it slide across the bottom,
and saw the liquid well up.
I began to sweat, first from the heat
and then from the work of stirring.
Was it my imagination, or did
the spoon move more slowly now.
I gripped it with both hands,
and remembered his order:
Just keep stirring.
I imagined this pot, this goop,
sloshing inside a floating metal box,
thickening as hundreds of hungry young men
in blue and white waited patiently to
clog their guts or,
clutching a pitching rail,
empty them.
I weakened, I think,
as I struggled to move the spoon.
It felt like hands were gripping it,
preventing me from stirring.
I pushed with all my strength,
knowing that the white paste would brown,
then burn,
if it stayed on the bottom too long.
My adolescent body began to fail, and I called out:
“Help! I can’t stir the pot!”
In a flash he was back,
dumping gallons of milk into the pot,
the paste immediately loosening
its grip on the spoon.
“Thanks for your help,” he said.
“I’ve got it from here.”

this poem just happened to be posted on Father's Day, it is about my father but is
not a *warm glow* or huggable feeling about a beloved father:
I look at him, a balding, wrinkled old man
He looks confused and tells me he needs a plan.
He asks what time is it and where is he now?
He hasn’t got a clue and he looks to me.
So, where was the love? I don't know, let me see.
It wasn’t in that old house where we grew up.
It wasn’t in his tone that stopped us abrupt.
Where was the love when he would pull out his belt?
Not in his words when he yelled “Damn it to hell!”
What love there was vanished with our tears that fell.
Stooped over, shuffling along; his gait is slow
His pants barely fit and the back is rather low.
Who are you? He queries then asks, who am I?
Where is that man now, the one who made us flee?
And where was the love then? Where would it be?
Not when he shouted, berating each of us.
It wasn’t there when he would storm, yell and cuss.
Where was the love when he got mad and just hit?
Gone with the hurtful words that he’d fling at me.
So, where was the love? Not in that house, you see.
His hair is white, he stumbles and I catch him
And then he’ll head straight out the door on a whim.
He’s forgotten now how he’d laughed at our fear.
Any love was gone when he’d hit just for fun.
There’s plenty of pity but love? No, there is none.

Once upon a time of grand pleasure
There was a child with thoughts of pure fun
Days danced from one to another
How wonderful it felt to be young
To capture secret snow forts
on toboggans of imagination
To cross vast fishing streams
in the canoes of creation
To race through open fields
at the silent speed of light
To dig for buried treasure
and catch fireflies at night
Those places that we visited
were at the heart of time and space
They may be gone at the present
Yet, they can never be erased
The ballgame in the corner lot
that spectacular catch you made
The birthday of your special gift
when all your wished were repaid
The years when certain music
was inspiring and brand new
When books became a vacation
getting lost with; "you know who."
Let's visit that time in the present
not retreat to the past
Let's do something that's pleasant
for life rushes by too fast
Now - is the time to discover
what a wonder life can be
Having pure fun with another
by releasing the child in; "me."

I love to climb up to the tippy-top of rainbows
pulling myself up on ruby red ribbons
and swinging on blue bonnet bows
It can be hard on me when the wild wind blows
A beautifully dangerous love affair, I suppose
Sometimes it can be a thorn
but most times it's a rose
This colorful little hobby that I chose
It always leaves me with sour yellow lips
fluorescent orange ears, and a neon green nose
from all of the slipping and sliding
and the running, hiding, and colliding
Where a rainbow ends nobody knows
As I close,
Let me just say
That the best part of my rainbow climbing day
is at sunset when all of the grey
has been washed away
and I reach the top
and get ready to play
That's when I take a big breath
smile, and deny death
and I stop
and then I dance
on my tip-toes
and I spin around as my whole body glows
even my clothes
Then I'll slide down head first breathing in the highs
and breathing out the lows
I always make sure to slide head first into the mist
where I am colorfully kissed
and feel 5 years old
I bang my head
of blue, green, yellow, orange and red
on a giant pot of glittering gold
where all of my hopes and colorful dreams unfold

Two male Cardinals in the running rose
Their beauty on surroundings impose
Thoughts that Spring will come someday
And bring with it life to all that play
Like little boys who climb trees
Tiny girls who swing with ease
So different are they but both love to play
All the day in the wonderful sun's ray

I waited and waited,
crossed the lakes the rivers, and the seas,
but met no one,
as I walked on,
I met an old man,
as he began talking to me curiously,
he seemed to be,
enriched with a bag,
of knowledge and experience,
I wondered whether his bag was heavy,
or light,
the thought just,
passed by me at that moment,
was that,
what are we,
in front of him,
we are nothing,
compared to him.

Memories haunt and yet they lead.
They help us to find our way.
Memories bring choices with comparisons made.
Memories lead to decisions as corners we turn.
But memories are fluid and change as life goes on.
We forget and discard what we don’t want.
Later we revisit and change images again.
Resentments change to love and care long lost.
Achievements verses what we gave up.
Even wrong can become trying to do right.
Other viewpoints open the older we become…
Then we revisit and memories change again.
Memories can be truth or lies, but they are always…
As fluid as the life from which they come.

On mornings as cold inside as out__burr
She knelt__held a match against fat lighterd
For she knew that this was required of her
The fire would smoke, sputter__soon blaze occured
Spreading rapidly engulfing the wood
Seemed like a miracle from where I stood
How she went on from year to year__question
What could she have been in better situation
She would blow the spark that ignited flames
Fire would glow as did her small meager life
But from her life a blaze planted__child tame
Who would write of her hardships being wife
And how she would teach where the Sweet Shurbs grow
Down in the wet land beside the road
(How to appreciate corn bread, buttermilk, and butter cold.)

Home Sweet Home
My childhood home
Is cherished
Memories filled with
Silver and gold
And sometimes pure cold.
No one told me
It would go with me
Where ever I go
When I roam from
Town to town
I carry it with me
I open the door
Each night when
I go to sleep
And dream.
I can’t shake
What I learned
And what I didn’t
Learn inside
My honeycomb
I can’t stop
Moaning
About that
Home.

we were just neighbors
he had black hair and brown eyes
we were hardly seven
playing hide and go seek
in the neighborhood
in the dark
fake plastic knives
expensive halloween masks
hollywood took my life for a picnic
they call my childhood michael myers
A girl moved to town
from somewhere in the states
said a meteor created a river there
she always liked to make up horror stories
and games
and chants
to go along with hyperventalating
truth or dare and seances
imagine yourself in a cemetary
imagine yourself with no friends
imagine you have an unstoppable desire
to kill kill kill
There were a few broken ribs
a few doors busted down
no one died
but i will never forget what happened in that particular town
looks like halloween
just not the right day
screaming children
just out to play
so many lines from your horror movie stolen right from my mouth
tears in my eyes to the relisation that something so awful went soo far
ask any of my old friends
they will tell you of that great hiding place
why some of my better friends ended up insane and never threw me away
not sure how much longer i'll survive my exaggerated childhood on display
wait till i grow up a bit more
and then parade every other mistake i've made
the loveless relationship i have with the world ends today
his name was never michael myers, only few of us know his real name

Stone upon the water front/
Next to the cashmere pillow,
The pier near the gallow shore/
A man began to speak,
Within this land there shall be no way out accept I tax,
This gravitational pull may bring some down,
Yet if you stay and listen very carefully/
You will live through this time and be very happy !
Many of you have become lazy in the manner of laws,
A decree will be summoned to let us know/
The waiting may be hard to comprehend,
Yet within time you can grow to depend/
The fat of the land,
Let this man take you by the hand/
There can be no further excuses or escape,
The way will depend upon the hearer's !

Isolating my feelings of envy,
Locking myself away.
I apologize for being deep
Inside my mind everyday.
I'm not sure about what I should do
Whenever I'm tangled up with one of you.
Bored when there's nothing new to
Say or to do.
Broken soul when I keep myself inside.
Inner mind is where I push back my bad feelings.
I must be crazy
By being bored of one friend and
Going over there one week later again.
I may become bored for a small amount of time,
But only those who have reached
My heart and soul
Are the ones I'll always like the most.

To the little boy lost
To the little boy lost
Who longed for a home
Where dreams are encouraged
And spirits can soar
Instead you were given
A house that was cold
With cruelty and anger
And constant reminders
How worthless you are
To the little boy lost
With words you were broken
As you faded from life
Your eyes dark and empty
Once full of light
Now searching the shadows
For places to hide
From a childhood that haunted
The rest of your life
To the little boy lost
My friend and my brother
Though younger than you
To this day, guilt and pain makes me wonder
Why time brought me through
But left you behind
Where you carried inside
The little boy lost
Who had nothing to lose
And no hope inside
When you ended your life
To the little boy lost
Who's part of my soul
Wherever you are
I hope you have found
What you never could find
Here in this life
A place to call home
Kevin D. Fix

Going back to my childhood home today
Oaks still there even though been long away
Your memories I take with me heavy
They are on my back; leaving them___ready
To be free of oppressing memories
Remembering him in his dungarees
Yet hard seems the memory of him now
Fierce, stony was his attitude somehow
Fear and tension he did bring to the child
Leave that one; go to another for awhile
Inhale the aroma of Sweet Shrub__spring
She would take child there__ the pleasant place bring
Her kitchen pleasant aroma__biscuits
Warmth, love, food, and comfort her best portraits
(After reading Edna St. Vincent Millay, I was impressed to write this one..)

THE BOOGEYMAN WILL GET YOU-LOOK OUT!!
They have said that to me ever since I was a wee boy
Lurking under the sheets,in the closet,behind one's back
Especially at night when we are susceptible to the vivid
imaginations of our peers' taunting ravings of Unmentionable
crawlers of the dark and fright
I would not sleep with the closet door half open to fill these
frightened pupils of what may hide behind
It would scare me out of my adolescent mind,to know that something
SINISTER would come from the shadows and SCARE me to death from behind
Every little boy or girl would be so sensitive to the Boogeymen stories that their
elders or friends would tell them,how green and deathly evil their eyes can be
when they look back at you.Is it purely imagination or something of a twisted and
macabre sense of humor that our brothers and sisters would like to throw back
at us..for kicks and thrills,Halloween night terrors of unimaginable thrills
When I was younger,the Man with a Forever Grin,would like to ridicule and
terrorize me with his Devil-may-bite smile and assistant ghosties who would play
along for the HELL of it.
I may be a grown man now,my friend,but whenever I pop a HALLOWEEN dvd in
my player,the mind cannot help but recollect the pictures of Night Terrors that
forever go bump in the night where I live..
I hope the same can be said of those same Vile screamers that terrorize us in
the first place..give them a taste of their own WICKED medicine

Sitting here,I dream
Those Summer days of my youth,
Life was slower then -
Holidays,so full of sun
Time, just drifted by,
Daylight lasting,oh so long -
Days stretched into weeks
Carefree as we ventured forth
Growing up,was simpler then.

We are young and try to be, Independent and free.
Got the world beneath our feet, they took our innocence to keep.
These the men of old, who swapped their hearts for shining gold.
Now they try to steal our souls to wrap around their brittle bones.
Locked in chambers made of stone, their children they beg to play alone.
Wrapped up tight in broken ropes, they pray for guns instead of hope.
But we found love, we will thrive, despite the lies that you deny.
And we will end what you begun. Turn our backs onto the sun.
We run through the night fighting for our sacrificial right.
And we howl to the moon, like it is what we were born to do.
And when we hear the gypsy's chant, we stand up tall and dance.
When the sun begins to rise, we bow our heads and close our eyes.
Because we are young and try to be, independent and free.

Have I lived so long in Eden’s grave
and never felt the ocean's wave
or touched the silken butterfly
who dances for the children’s eye
Colors more than sight allows
have I embraced those burning clouds
ending days in appetite
for stars in heaven's pride of night
did I live so long and never taste
snow - so shyly kissing the face
aimless, white melodies
clothes for barren naked trees
do I listen what the rivers say
they’re wisdom of a thousand days
winding from a mountains height
against the stone's endless fight
A scissor tail, robin's nest
did I hear the song so curious
Have I lived at all - have I lived a day
Have I lived so long in Eden’s grave

Climb mountains!
Slay Dragons!
That's what I did
When I was a kid
Now it's too much
All this grownup stuff
Amalgamations
Corporations
Business-like murder
under the guise of merger
Micro-second chattel battles
waged on computer panels
Flash before my eyes
In a plate glass high-rise
Now
all my mountains are made of paper, and
all my dragons wear ties

Old Red
Old Red woke the world as blazing sun was about to rise
he was the world in a young child's tender heart and eyes
Sweet are those memories of Old Red 's many escapades
his chasing away our loved Tomcat on his many little raids
Each day we needed not any old blaring electric alarm
for Old Red was there doing such fine duties on our farm
The hens he kept so very safe, free from any great harm
he was loved for his call, beauty and so very great charm
My Dad gave him , a little chick as a very special gift to me
a most sweet morning that was, a future great love to be!
Over the next six years both our loves did so happily grow
Old Red was exceptional and did truly my great love know
Everyday, I doing my chores and I kept him quite well fed
nightly I journeyed forth to check him before going to bed
Locking up, protecting my Red from predators so very bad
every morning hearing his blaring call so very, very glad!
A young boy of eleven woke to a sad and fateful event
Old Red was about to find his last earthly hours spent
Dad had seen Old Red's duties were not quite up to par
time to do his duty send Red to a kitchen not so very far
Having slept late , quickly did I jump up from my bed
racing outside to greet my very sweet friend Old Red
Only to see Old Red about to be cut so very, very dead!
down came the axe and quickly off came my Red's head!
Dad spoke, son you knew this would some day have to come
that sooner or later Old Red would a family meal become
Then it struck me, all things must eventually go their way
Old Red, my great friend, was never meant to forever stay!
So long ago , now both my "Reds" are so sadly passed away
both in my memories are so loved , each in a very special way
Robert Lindley, 06-21-2014
I got "Old Red" when I was only 5 years old , lost him six years
later at eleven years old. Lost my Dad only four years later. Life is a
blessing but in it we lose so many things we dearly love.
Losing a mother, father or child , absolutely nothing hurts more!!!
Sadly, I lost my father far too soon and two newborn infants as a
very young married man.
So very , very blessed to still have my mother!

i chased you around in circles
until we both were out of breath
you caught me a golden butterfly
and watched me as you let it go
we danced in forever fountains
and got caught up in our dreams
we told each other secrets
and made promises we could never keep
we kissed each other's innocence
and watched it fly in forever fountains
like golden butterflies sometimes do

I met an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years
We didn't get mushy, so no spilling of tears.
However, we did sit and chat for a long while
Reminiscences of a time that oft made us smile.
He is one of a few people who I have known most of my life
And I had thought of those days when we knew not strife.
We talked about how we had been such wild kids indeed
That now, for only our souls, our prayers needed to plead.
We spoke of the generations in our understanding of love
Our parents and grandparents, watching down now from above.
Then, of our children for whom we wanted a better life there to be
Realizing of course, that this is every parent's wish to see.
We talked of the things we remembered most dear
Lighting small images in my brain front and rear.
Those few lights that are kept in that deep recess
Are only allowed out, when thought of with much tenderness.
There were other images there too
That stuck to my mind, like paper to glue.
Of course those images are now a nostalgic smatter
At the time they occured, they were no laughing matter.
We parted the eve with a solemn promise
That we would continue to share these thoughts in us.
For it is not often that you have a friend for so many years
And the ones who are gone...for them I shed tears.

Used to look through child’s eyes
Used to stare at star ridden skies
Used to smile at silly sounds
Used to dream of the future’s bounds
Used to play in the thicket of my mind
Used to search for a place to hide
Used to act like story book heroes
Used to count from 100 back to zero
Used to hold my breath till my face was bright red
Used to believe all the words that everyone said
Used to want a big house and brand new car
Used to hope that I could someday set the bar
Used to use my imagination
Used to use that motivation
Now being used by my frustration
Of being used by my own generation
Used to... used to...
You know I used to...
Use it all without a thought
Used too... Used too...
We’re all being used too...
Bought and sold like an old iron pot
Used to... used to...
You know we all used to...
Dream our world would never rot
Used too... Used too...
It’s all being used too...
All our resources from bottom to top
Used to sit up all hours of the night
Used to believe that people were alright
Used to think that we could still pull through
Used to think that everybody knew
Used to have faith in the ‘truth’
Used to see their words as proof
Used to hide these tears I’d cry
Used to hold my head up high
Used to think I had a grasp
Used to disguise myself with a plastic mask
Used to act like there was no problem
Used to hypocritically mock any and all of ‘em
Used to use their aspiration
Used to use their motivation
Now they use their investigation
To bind us to their administration
Used to... used to...
You know I used to...
Use it all without a thought
Used too... Used too...
We’re all being used too...
Bought and sold like an old iron pot
Used to... used to...
You know we all used to...
Dream our world would never rot
Used too... Used too...
It’s all being used too...
But when will this mass consumption ever stop?

Flame haired woman child
standing poised upon the cliff
Yearning to be set free
Momentarily quiet
Unmoving
Like the stillness before the storm
Giving voice to her future self
Suddenly she bursts into motion
Dancing and sparkling
Reminiscent of sunshine
on wind tossed waves
Child awakened once more
But still only half aware
Behind her eyes lies unknown depths
As the ocean holds secrets
Eddies and currents
Never seen upon the surface
Sometimes slow warm and gentle
Then turning cold
Deep, mysterious
Ages old with innocence above

Look into the mirror child
Tell me what you see…
Lost dreams and hopes of years
Past and gone,
Or all the possibilities
Look behind those bright brown eyes
Tell me what you see…
Things a child should never know,
Things no soul should see
Look into that broken heart
That’s trampled on
And stone cold
Times of regret
Have worn your soul
And drowned your joy in seas
See the light reflected
Off the mirror, see
See there’s hope for you and me
Endless opportunities
Life beyond this mirror
Child, stop looking back now
The future is beyond this glass
Make your choice and make it last
Hope for you has just begun
Living life in the light of the Sun
Joy is yours and peace at last
Looking beyond this glass
Looking beyond this glass

I can see you dancing on the lawns, innocence,
laughing, running, arms carefree and unabashed.
Your vision holds me, as if held in a moment of such
happiness and magic that I can barely think to breath.
But as a distant sound breaks my dream, I feel the
emptiness once more.
No warmth of a breeze can break my fall from that high
place.
How then should someone address their loneliness
when all that was their life has gone from their touch.
When all that changed them from nothing to something
has itself turned to nothing but for an aching love.
It cannot be left by the bed in the morning when you
wake and picked up again at a time of nostalgia,
or left downstairs when you ascend the steps at night
in hope of sleep.
It is you and it is your love... it is what you have
and it is why you are....
Emptiness ... fullness of feeling... it is because
they were... and they still are.

Rebellious young child of the sea,
Why do you always flee
From admitting yourself wrong,
And still letting your heart be filled with envy and pride?
Why do you glide away
From friend to friend?
Seems like whatever you do will always end.
I hear you are rebellious against His Word
And that you allow astrology and deep intrepretations to be thy guide.
Everyone says that you are just that way,
Because you believe you're forever a child,
Yet contradictingly,
You say you're a child of The Lord,
If so, why are you some times impure and insecure?
Thy answer is, "I am free to be what I want to be..."
"For Jesus' salvation is for everyone including me..."
"Although I run away, my soul clings onto friends and misses them dear..."
"I'm usually not myself around others, because I have one small fear..."
"I pray every night, asking for His forgiveness and loving light,"
"And I also have this continuous inner fight..."

It takes uncertainty, I know
to walk out your door
and walk through another that’s not yours
Of course, there’s too a course
that other, unfamiliar, shoes use
There are signs and there are signs
not always along the way
There is opportunity
there is stop’n wait’n see
choices others can’t make
You’ll find too, things that go wrong. . . far from the right
Afternoon. . . turns to morning. . . skips to night
There is certain to be a promise. . . a goal. . . a loss
and love’s. . . not yet in the toss
Advice listened, taken and given
Too few things, too many things. . . you’ll come to know
It takes certainty
to walk out your door

Be Brave
Start this way
Wind up all your webs
Finally let them flow into the tornado
of lies
Be Courage
Don't forget the origination
Simple sits and simple
imagination
It is where it starts
Be Alive
Take beauty
Utilize yearnings of hope
Fill others with song
...Maybe this way
we will grow
into what we imagined ourselves
to be
when we were young enough to be
Brave
Courageous
Alive

Many good memories darken
As the shadows of loneliness and inner pain settle in.
Repeatful mistakes coming along with revolutionary lessons,
Increasing inner strength each day.
Secretly crying in the night,
Simply killing the sadness in pure daylight,
Aspiring to be an amazing inspiration to all nations.
Planning constantly,
Always achieving all she can.
Interpreteting her dreams and sign,
Gaining as much knowledge and wisdom as she can,
Elevating to the next level.
Flaming strong spirit, so warm,
Accumulating fiery soul,
Rushing through the cold.
Innerly fighting, courageously,
Eagerly hoping all her struggling will be worth it.
She will never officially give up...

Let's put ourselves in their shoes
Let's take time to understand why they act the way they do
They're tired
Tired of being surrounded by liars
Tired of seeing bags underneath their eyes
Developed from the lonely night cries
They're tired of being tired the next day from the night before
All from staying awake waiting for their mom to walk through the door
Their tired of feeling like nobody cares
Being alone, with no food to eat is too much to bare
Tired of what's suppose to be a home being a house
Of seeing parents play with their children while stuck on the inside looking out
Tired of wondering why do they have to suffer the pain
And be apart of life's hardest game
Tired of crying when people see what's wrong
As if we don't hear the sad tune playing in their hurtful song
They yearn to be where they belong and desire to be
A place where they can feel good, happy, and stress free
Where they can smile, laugh, and play
But mostly, go home to a loving family at the end of each day

The cardboard castle protects the king
The worthy knights are friends with dreams
With wooden swords and paper crowns
And horses made by clicking sounds
That's rode by those who dare to dream
Beyond a world that can't be seen
By minds that limit what they believe
When imagination has no bounds
To take us places we've never been
Or close our eyes and drift like clouds
That comes to life with silhouette's
Of ships that sail the sky
Or shapes that's so familiar
Wishing to believe they'd come alive
Telling tales of great adventures
Taking those who wish to fly
High above and free to journey
With imagination at your side
Endless wonders are yours to hold
When you open up your mind
Cause within we're still the boys and girls
Who dreamed of kings and queens
Whose yard was made of distant lands
Where friends could make believe
That battles won, and dragons fought
Was more than sticks and trees
But a place we sometimes forget
That imagination gives us wings
Kevin D. Fix

What is broken,
Still shines great beauty...
Whoever or whatever that reaches the inside of me,
Is a treasure worthy enough for me to forever hold...
When night comes,
My feelings and thoughts truly unfold...
During the darkest of my hours,
I unleash my expressive powers...
While the dawn hast come,
My energized mind numbs
For only a moment,
I will wait...
The sun rises
As the deepest gates of my imagination
Flood open and bring on the waves of emotion.
Winds of hope blow away my tears...
And the inner sea, in me,
Begins to shine colours,
From the bluest of all these days,
To the grayest of my depressed ways...
These gray waters...
Change into a glow of hopeful silver...
And at long last, I let go of the past,
As this sea is painted gold by the eternal sun...
I am saddened and gladdened, here and there...
Yet, whatever is broken...
Still shines great beauty...

Each day that I get up and greet the new dawn
Posing at the mirror,first..to see what changes have been going on
My eyes cannot look at what lies before me
55'waist on a 5ft 7 frame
These hands reach into the old treasure chest in the closet
I open it up and there before me is
A Superman comic(circa 1986-A CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTH crossover)
12 vhs tapes of STAR TREK,the original series(courtesy of Paramount Pictures)
An E.T.The ExtraTerrestial costume that mom made for me
and of course,the most treasured possession of all:
A FRUIT-OF-THE-LOOM jockey short that I wore throughout Freshman and
Sophomore year in High School
The DIRTY jokes that my Classmen used to tell
Old and disgusting chewing gum sticking to the toilet bowl with this note:
BERNIE&CHRISTINE,SITTING UP ON THAT TREE..K.I.S.S.I.N.G.
I hold up that smelly jockey garment from long ago to my expanding waist
Now I do know WHEN and WHERE the years did go
too much partying with the cubicle nerds
PAPA GINO'S and A&W root beer just lying around for some aging X'er to take
a bite and a gulp
Every night before I trot off to sleep,the hemorrhoids keep acting up
disturbing the many custard pie remnants that exhale from the behind
Mother told me that too much of that would be Dangerous,sickening,and unkind
I can't help it if I do not want to let go of my young appetite,as yet
Creatures from the old yearbook,Ravishingly young and wile
It brings forth a pleasant memory and before I am off to dreamland
This face offers up,one more juvenile smile,from yesteryear
GOOD NIGHT

Log cabin
She grew up in a log cabin
on the top of a mountain
over looking a river in the valley
With flowers on both sides growing
That time has come and past
But the memories still persist
of her childhood of growing up
out here In the green lust forest
She lived with her father
who taught her all about life
and she still remembers her mother
Who died when she was just five?
her father become both parents to her
taking care of his only little girl
leading her to the right path to take
to be a success in the world
He send her to school then collage
and she graduate top of her class
Today she’s a heart surgeon
Performing a Coronary bypass
She married a wonderful guy
She met in medical school
He fainted when he saw blood
She smiles but though he was cool
They go to the log cabin
for vacation every year
And she tells her children
of her childhood growing up there
Every one of us
Will always go back in time
To the childhood we that had
And relive every minute it in our mind
Just take a minute to remember
And I bet you will smile
Thinking of so many fun things
You did when you was a child
Growing up in Trinidad was so much fun
With my brothers and parents
An for Christmas my grandmother
Would buy us so much presents
I Will always think of my childhood
of the many years spend in my home
And in marabella, la romain, and Indian trail
Where my memories will always roam
She finishes setting the table
As the fire place starts to light
They are having dinner with her father
In the log cabin tonight

Earthly joys
were felt by this child at play,
let them still be yours today,
to remind you always....
that tomorrow is another day.
Earthly joys
spring forth from new wishes,
to explore another dimension
with a mind set in determination...
and should we hold them in our grasps?
Earthly joys
that made my childhood and yours
so exuberant, unable to obliterate them from memories,
sweeter than anything we can't offer or merely improvise...
why are they more lustrous than sun-rays?
Earthly joys
sustaining that hope that they will last,
to console us when aloness becomes death,
too real for our weakened breath...
retrace them, relive them until they pass.
Entered in Brian Strand's contest, " Tomorrow is another day"

The sad little child
With the broken down smile
Thought how could this be
Why no one could see
This pain I've endured
While the cries go unheard
By the secrets kept silent
Behind closed doors
Of a room filled with fear
And what footsteps would bring
And hoping for morning
Just wishing for sleep,
Or somewhere to hide
Under the covers
Or inside of my dreams
Till the nightmare is over
And the child is set free
From the secrets kept silent
By the one's who should love me
Kevin D. Fix

Our Union
My eyelashes bat
After meeting your gaze
From across a
Crowded subway haze.
My pupils dilate when they
Look back at you over dinner
Where we drank wine and ate.
My feet dance with glee as we
Fall hopelessly in love
In the midst of summer heat.
My heart splits apart
To become your wife
And your forever sweetheart.
My legs spread
Open to bare new life
And see your cheeks rosen.
My arms push
You away at night,
I'm too tired for a sex life.
My fists rage and tears pour,
When I discover your arms
Embracing another lover
After coffee one early morn.
My ears listen to
Your words of regret and
Pleads for a second chance
For things to be like
When we first met.
My fingers dial
Seeking third party counsel
To repair our shattered union.
My brain waves
Shift to understand your
Thoughts and your feelings,
While I bitterly convey my own.
My hand re-opens
To forgive your sins
And make amends.
My lips part to
Receive your kiss in the
Night in a sea of
Skin in our warm bed.
My heart flutters,
We’ve truly become one,
Years after we bore our son.

Those nights I have cried in,
Disappeared when I put you
Inside a special place in my mind.
No matter how far apart,
We'll always meet again at a new start.
I felt guilty for letting you go
And for letting one of my most precious friendships
Fall apart...
I felt sad on some nights,
Until you brought back out friendship's bright light.
Tears and fears have once ruled my life,
But then I found you again,
My friend...

Baseball cards
a rubber band,
an 1894 Indian head penny
the aroma of cheap tobacco
filled the bottom of an old cigar box
my box of dreams where no one else could go
when I was grown the box became a distant memory,
I had forgotten the magic of dreams-cynical adulthood
in Hollywood I was sure that I was home
only to find a pink slip and a plane ticket
my depression black as a moonless night
I lived inside this tube of insanity
where nothing made sense
I felt like dying
snorting cocaine
to take away the pain-growing thin
I lost control of my life once again
gazing through teary eyes I saw it...
my box of dreams
when I opened it I found a time capsule
baseball cards
a rubber band
and that 1894 Indian head penny
the box still wafting old tobacco
from 30 years past filled my nostrils
my life was not full of hope anymore
just the agony of knowing
how I wished that I could start over
one more feeble attempt at life
eventually I fell asleep
I had a dream that it was all a terrible mistake
my war wounds
drug addiction all passed away
in my unconscious mind…
when I awoke
I felt a moment of Peace…
of hope
Dedicated to Rhoda Galgiani

Dream child float away
lilting through the night
on your summer bed
softly in shadows sweet
the mystery of you is true
my heart comes unglued
at your golden sight
rocking you
in tender contemplation
true in every movement
how could you be wrong
and that proves it too
what you learn is only
just a wrapping
of blankets leaving you pure
even in your darkest deed
as you grow to be less
and I cast my eyes
into your heart sweetly
listening to you sleeping
my eyes grow tired too
but stay open just to know
another moment of this bliss
hoping you might stay
just a day longer
before the time must come
as you walk your own path
blossoming from this root
you have come full circle
I wonder, wonder, wonder
but answers fall away
I am content to know nothing
and only be here
in this true moment
alone by myself with you
my precious dream that breaths
our two worlds kissing edges
like distant galaxies
of far away times

It went
with my mind
It went
with my method
It went
before I had it,
like the cold air
smoking through fingertips.
Frozen lines
case tumours deflation.
All this time, with nothing to do
but give
and get given.

I've already told you
Everything, and now I feel
That I have nothing else to bring
Out of my thoughts to you...
And gotta try,
To forget about you
And move on.
Because I am sick and tired
Of making myself cry.
All along,
My feelings have seen you as
An off and on love.
I will never think of you
As someone who was true...
I shall get rid of such a bond
I've grown to have with you...

My family loves me.
My parents wore gentle gloves
While they raised me
When I was a baby.
My mother and father
Save me from drowning
Whether in aquatic places
Or in one of my emotional despair traces.
My grandparents care for me,
Even if they rub in the truth
Too frankly and bluntly.
The bad things other say about me
Are not true.
But my family will always
Bring me through sad times.
I am glad my aunts, uncles, and cousins are mine.
My family knows me as a
One of a kind child.
They are what save me.

Born on the earth
To bring her mirth,
Aditya, a rising Sun,
By illuminating Horizon,
Imparting her ‘Sanjeevan’,
Glitters in Heaven!
The eclipsed Sun darkens!
But fadeless Aditya, always brightens!
Your success with outstanding ‘O’,
Arouses in my mind, a respectful awe!
With your imperishing, triumphant, fadeless glow,
Your friends and foes, with respect will bow!
I have no doubt,
You have a clout,
By your eternal Love,
In future do prove,
That the glittering, fadeless, triumphant Sun,
Is not in Heaven, but is in you, O! ‘Outstanding’ sun!!
May I wish, you shine ‘Brighter than the Thousand Suns’!!

My friendship is beyond
The clouds of loneliness.
It's beautifully bright rays
Rarely breaks through them.
When it does, my Gemini emotions
Are uplifted.
Was born on a sunny day,
Yet I experience all this raining pain
Throughout my life...
Times I now spend with friends are fleeting,
But the bonds are everlasting.

I shall never fully let go
Of the feelings, thoughts, memories
Of everything that once flowed into my life.
I am always envisioning my future,
Always lingering in the past.
I feel strongest when both of my
Mindsets of future and past align.
I will always be living in the present.
I’ll never give up on my way of thinking.
The blending of yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Is my way of diversifying times
From which I shall grow.

Summer Day
Walking down the dusty country road
Skipping rocks over the creek
Running through the pasture chasing cows
Taking a long dip in a cool lake on a hot summer day
Catching a horny toad to bring home to Mom
Whistling my way down the long dusty road
Free to do whatever I please along the way
What a great way to spend a summer day

I want to take you on a journey,
From the present back to the past.
To take a moment to reflect on,
A possibility of why things do not last.
I want you to take some time to reflect,
On some of the things that you’ve gone through.
Some of the things that created gigantic hurdles,
That you are still fighting without having any clue.
I want you to remember when,
Those harsh words were spoken to you.
Those words that still stick in your mind,
For years and years all the way through.
In your original plans back in the days,
You had high hopes along with your dreams.
But they were diminished by the advice of some others,
And caused you to go through many extremes
In a sense you had been deprived of your liberty,
To operate in this present of the end of the times.
To meet the maximum of the most of the potential you had,
You still unto this day remember the lines.
And some of those situations,
That you had to face, back then.
Are still staring you directly in the face,
Because they have never left you from within.
It’s a sense of your freedom being taken away,
Being mentally put into confinement involuntarily.
Not being able to reach successfully for the future,
Because your mental state of mind was damaged purposefully.
You have emotionally been locked up for so long,
That you don’t even realize that you are presently free.
Mentally restrained or captured if I may say,
You had lost your very own future’s custody.
If this controls you at this very moment,
Then bondage still has control of you.
And the goals that you have set up for yourself,
You will need to be delivered in order to see them through
Well we are now at present and I want to ask you this,
I want to know if I were to right now ask
“Are you now able to achieve your goals?”
Or are you still suffering as a “Prisoner of the Past”

Like a pearl in a shell,
In a cradle o bairn! You dwell
To you even this tiny space
May seem a vast expanse!
So live, that as you grow,
By your glorious deeds you show,
That this universe- your cradle
Would be petite, finite and humble!

Why I'm so reclusive in my life
Is something I've come to realize...
What the main key to my self's strife.
Analyzed this reason before;
I have done so many times more.
When among strangers,
There are few who click with me
And are within my personality's range.
Fears and conclusions
Which I consider dangers
Used to be illusions.
Illusions become reality
And thus my own morality
Is to befriend those
Who feel lonely.
I do not want to always approach people,
For I do not know them
And would like it if they
Got to know me first.
My family know me so well.
Yet my cousins are changing.
My mind is still trying to
Rearrange these growing-up
Thoughts and feelings of mine.

Sorry, T.V., I got another screen to check-out.
Sorry, my bodily heart, but I have another hobby
To ruin you until death do us part.
Sorry, my friends, but I got a new addiction.
(And your intuition is wrong if you've
Guessed the words "video game".)
Sorry, druggy fools,
I am not an addition to your shame.
Sorry, mommy and daddy,
I've got my own new set of rules.

once I was
a scared little girl
living in a castle
with an Evil Queen
and her Ogre King
every other weekend
my White Knight
would rescue me
and take me to his
humble home for
a much-needed respite
lawmakers of the land
were under the spell
of the Evil Queen
and forced me to return
time and again
I eventually escaped
that castle and another
Ogre thrown in my path
I may seem strong
but inside I am still
that scared little girl
I no longer require rescuing
there is only room
in life for one
White Knight
I would like to find a man
who is still
a scared little boy
so that we can
hold each other's hands
as we grow up
and learn to slay our dragons
together

Keeping and making friends
Isn’t easy as it seems,
When you’re in a place
That’s supposed to hold
The best few years of
Your time amidst society.
Everyone’s naturally
Holding their own individuality,
Most people seem so easily
Associating themselves with
Those whom they feel similarly.
In my current time of life
It feels like the simplicity
Of imagining and playing
With fellow children
Is now distantly forgotten
And left behind in our minds.
Yet even back then,
It was like as if I’ve always
Been in my head,
Thinking all the same, but differently.
Back then, I felt as if
I could be with many
Who appreciate me for being me.
Walking around alone
Isn’t as easy as it seems to feel,
Thinking “If only we could naively
See through the walls that hide what’s real.
Oh the walls we’ve grown into having.”
The concept of socializing
Is not built like different toy houses
With open walls too see into each one.
The basic aspects of adolescence
Have never been easy.
So as a child at heart I am
Isolated, but always quietly wide open.
Waiting for friends
Who want to befriend me.

Head in the clouds,
Yet capable of flying back down to the earth.
Her wings represent the value of freedom,
How she also can fly anywhere else,
But also how she returns her own feet back to the ground,
To heal her own or others’ inner doubts
With the parts of grand truth she has found.

Long pressing
Bears the weight of the falling world around me
Over tinkered days and hollowed years
Has the growing spiral of downward turn
Unwound before my eyes
As my heart and mind
Have weathered
And my soul and will
Have crumbled…bit by bit
To the sorrowed step of un-kept time
And I
I have stood as if motionless
Looking on
While the blackened vines of ignorance
And the fettered thorns of foolish greed
Have smothered, as would seem, all before me
And while I sat in huddled desperation
Seeking not but to continue on in mere existence
A child passed by…
And suddenly I felt to leave all behind
And follow
…Jeff Bresee

I stood amidst a green field of grass
Around me the wind breathed . . . softly
Above the world a sun watched over me
Below, amid a pond scintillating with light
My family, my friends swam and laughter sang to us all
I stood apart as always I did in the past before this day
Yet this time I did not feel apart, nor alone, no more the outsider
For I was there swimming and laughing with them, in spirit I was there
And from behind me I listened to soft footfalls approaching
But I did not turn around instead I awaited his voice
For I knew he had come to speak, to learn so I would listen
Together we stood watching my family laughing and swimming
Until at last he spoke to bring forth the beginning
“Hey, you’re one of those guys aren’t you?”
He asked and I felt his frown upon me
So I turned to him and withdrew my shades
There before me I saw a child standing
Who had much to live, much to experience
So much to learn and so I smiled
A soft smile with gentleness
And this I said to him
“No, I am not one of those guys,
I am one man, nothing more
Nothing less, just a man
Like you I am a man.”
His brow creased as he thought about my words
And so I put my hand upon his shoulder and I spoke again
“Come, let us join them.”
And together the child and I, the man, walked down to my family
And when I arrived my family, my friends, greeted me and said
“Hello Patches, come and swim with us, laugh with us.”
So I did and as I did I felt the child sleep peacefully
And I knew, I knew that it was alright
For I am just a man, one man
Like you

with muse in hand
I'll take you on a walk to remember
do you remember
when you used to be able to
keep your windows and doors unlocked
and got to enjoy the night breeze's while you slept
do you remember
when you were able to
walk to your local corner store
and not get jacked
do you remember
when soda and cigarettes
were 50 cents a pack and 25 cents a can
and suddenly you had friends
you've never knew you had before
do you remember
when you could ride a city bus for a dime
and go downtown and look at christmas displays
without getting knocked off feet
do you remember
when gas was only a nickle a gallon
so family's could take a nice
summer vaction without noise and traffic
do you remember
when kids walked to school safely
and never had to worry
who was lurking behind them
do you remember
sitting at the soda shopp
just dancing and twisting
the night away without having rumbles
do you remember
when boys were boys
and girls were girls
well on this walk to remember
I'm sure there still out there
but got lost along the way
Tribute To Youth
And The Oldies
Also Entry For
Constance La France's
A Walk To Remember Contest

Always feeling such inner hurt,
My heart just feels so insecure in the night.
But there is always a light
Guiding me through my lonely days.
Sometimes I find life so unfair,
Yet some days I don't really care...
Seems like I always try different ways to express my feelings
Then I start retrieving truths I possibly never wanted to hear
And then I break down spiritually.
I hide my negativity and believe I can make it through
On my own.
Thoughts from the dark
Leave me with a lonely soul.
Ready to take the toll
Of thoughts that merged into my mind.
On optimistic days I believe I have the potential
To be successful
And that all my lonely and stressful years
Will be worth going through.
"Everyone who wants to disappear,
Look inside
And search for the light that resides...
There you will find
That you must stay true to yourself,
And try your hardest to harness your dreams...
Because the sadness and darkness in your mind
Are only gleams of what you'll really find
(Hope is the key)..."

We've been through
Roughening waves,
But we sat and never threw
Ourselves out of furious rave.
One day my heart
Will be glad that
We haven't yet fallen apart
And are not as sad as before.
Our time was like a boat...
No matter where we went,
Our time was well spent,
Even while we continuously float.
One day you'll be as happy
As you were in that rural place.
We'll together repair our broken vase.
You and I were inseparable friends...
So I wished it didn't end.
Our bond has been fragile
For quite some while.
I've been thinking of ridding it...
Though I know
I'll resolve it all somehow.
So I hope you will accept the flora
I shall give to you one day...

Today I lived my life with ghosts
Both living and dead
Your face, their face
Slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor
Hundreds of pictures of you and them
Hundreds of moments and moments and moments
Too numerous and caught in that web of time
Dangled on a cobweb so thin, so fine
It could break but does not snap
And lasts and lasts
And holds and holds
All there, suspended in that instant
Before falling to the floor,
Or in the box of memories. To be kept.
So where do you reside, in the bin or the box?
Where do you live for future’s worth?
Will you be cut adrift or salvaged in those stepping stones to the past.
And yet, she still picked up those photos of you
Pained and dulled
Still confused and stabbed by what has happened over time.
She saw your face and paused. Reflected.
She then gently collected up those images of you and me
And saved them in the box
One day for all to see in times to come.
She decided not to put you in the bin.
Unlike me.
She rescued her childhood.
Put down a marker in the sand
And said stop to the sea
To the waves and waves
That break over time and pain
Saved you from the blankless pile of Venice and Florence
And Christmas and beaches and Barbies and laughter
And with a simple dignity
She gave you back some worth.

I have always known I was unusual.
A small voice whispered in my youth.
I saw things in an unconventional light.
I could only imagine what others thought of me.
I worked so hard to alter their perception,
and mine.
That first vision, one so important.
How could they know what I couldn't face?
I ran in the opposite direction
fleeing headlong down the wrong path.
Years after, I converged upon that old path,
overgrown from years of neglect.
Slowly, I reclaimed what was once mine
and evolved into the one
I was meant to be.

Jealousy was deep
Within my heart,
But it had always kept me
In a prison of despairing
And deluding thoughts.
Free of such feelings,
I now see how jealousy only increases
Questions of confusion,
It never brings joyful endings.

When I think about them
My heart aches,
Because on the inside
I am drowning in the tide.
Is it envy or hate that I feel,
Or is it just that I yearn
For them so much.
This all takes me
To the point of colliding feelings.
I am happy that
They have friends of their own...
Yet my self-sacrifice
Doesn't seem worth it
In the end, for myself.
The thought of them hurts me.
Yet I'm not sure
If my heart is
Allowed to feel empty
And this meaningless jealousy.
Is it self-put
Or do I just truly
Desire their company...?
On the inside,
I'm not sure
How this complexity
Resides in me (in my mind).

Oh, I wish that this old world
Was like the Roy Rogers’ range—
Where every boy and girl
Didn’t have to view folks strange.
It used to be safe outside—
All the children could go play—
But now they worry and hide
In their homes both night and day.
Seems there’s just too many ways
That our kids can now be harmed—
They’ve missed their innocent days—
Their lives are no longer charmed.
We played all day with no care—
Didn’t know ‘bout an upper—
Ball games left no time to spare,
Till mom’s called us to supper.
Yes, those were different times,
When sex was not all we thought—
And news was not just more crimes—
What kind of world have we got?
I wish we could relive days
When Roy Rogers kept us straight—
Before things became a maze
Of drugs, thugs and war and hate.
I wish we did not grow up
To a world that’s now so strange—
And death drank not of our cup,
Like on a Roy Rogers’ range.

When growing up, we had our seats
Around the dining table.
We knew where everyone belonged –
We didn’t need a label.
Within the car, the rules applied;
The window seat was mine.
The youngest got the middle seat –
He’d dare not try to whine.
As an adult, I’m still the same –
I like the seat I’ve picked;
In classrooms, lunchrooms, or the car –
Usurpers I evict.
Some people just don’t understand.
They think I’m dictatorial,
When really, it’s within my genes
To be quite territorial.
We all have quirks, and one of mine
Is choosing where I sit.
It’s juvenile and just a tad
Obnoxious, I admit.
But since it means a lot to me
Most people seem to yield,
Perhaps enjoying someone else’s
Craziness revealed!

I remember when I was verbally bullied,
I would not tell my parents or teacher
Of what was happening.
I would only take it all in solitary stride,
I remember always feeling
Both sad and happy in being alone.
I think about it now,
I realize the reasons why I was bullied, why
I was resentful of those who done so to me.
I realize how silly it all was as a whole.
I notice how it seems to be my fault,
I rejected their offers for friendship.
I still think I was right,
I intuitively knew of their potential two-faced sides.
I have had friends long before then.
I unwillingly moved elsewhere
(Away from mine friends back then).
I seem to have lost them
For as long as I shall continue to live.
I eventually had no one
But [one] older and [some] younger cousins.
I remember when I was my parents' only beloved little one.
I would have everything a child wanted and needed.
I realized my parents often never played with me,
I have come to feel
They were never a good refuge for my feelings anyway.
I see how I've changed from a beloved child
To now this lonely soul.
I notice how everybody else eventually changes.
I have had good few friends
In these passing recent years of youth.
I have taken the toll that life has had in place for me.
I reminisce it all now,
I felt so alone, still feel so alone.
I remember my pain, I remember my joys,
I still console myself alone.
I notice how everything is not the same,
I realize the happier days of my past cannot repeat.
I know even if they did then I would face it all again.
I forever now accept it all to be an essential part of me.

I began walking today,
I was watching the sun.
I have decided today
To walk tomorrow
And for every other day.
As I walked,
I had seen it’s
Glorious light,
I then decided
I will never give up
My own life.

When I Sleep......
Nightmares haunt me in my sleep
And chase away the pleasant dreams
One by one they steal my sleep
And leave me with a need to flee
These mares they have an evil plan
To steal the sleep from all the land
And as they charge into my dreams
They steal the peace I need to sleep
I lay down now to feed the need
To rest my eyes, I need the sleep
Sandman come and storm near me
I need your help
To get my sleep
Tempest bless me with your clock
Tick and Tock
Please make time stop
Wind and rain and thunder strong
Cease my mind and lull me along
Mother Nature hear my plea
Keep me safe, watch over me
Give me wings to reach my dreams
But keep me safe from these dangerous things
The night mares
They still come for me
But now they find I can't be reached
At last I find a peaceful sleep
With all of thee protecting me
Come now and stay by me
Provide me with
A good night's sleep
But let it end at daylight's break
I am alive
My soul is safe

The world I knew, now seems so small
As I wander through my childhood home
Of faded paint and quiet rooms
That holds the past within these walls
Marked by time that crayons made
Pictures of a wondrous place
Where little hands would sit and draw
Dreams that never seem to fade
Till dark would come and hide their shape
Then morning brought them back to me
And carry me away
To the world I knew that mattered most
That taught me how to fly
With storybooks and paper planes
I learned no one could take my wings
This spirits only mine
That comes to life, young or old
We never leave behind
Unlike the walls whose silence grows
Quiet to the world I knew
That never fades with time
Kevin D. Fix

Bring it all: video games, dollies, and
Animated Sasodei doujinshi.
You name it,
And heck yes I can be a mean or sometimes stupid gal.
I can be someone's sweetie and then break their hearts
And I can be gentle
By listening to birds and their tweetings.
Oh and I can also be a good friend and send happy
And crazy greetings...
Yet sometimes I believe my pals are deceiving.
But there are three gals I'll luv most.
Even if they're different from me,
They're sometimes so needy for my personality.
I call and talk
They listen as I walk around my room
And then I suddenly shout like as if I'm in doom.
Yeah, blend of almost everything,
Those who tell the truths about me
Are always receiving lies I make up
To keep me and my stuff safe.
They say I'm selfish,
And I admit it,
Yet it hurts for me to hear even a little bit
People saying such things about me.
Blend of everything,
Some of my friends
Wouldn't agree,
Yet most of them don't see the curiosities
My mind contains...

Love that you found someone for yourself.
Hate that you're often becoming further away
From me instead of anyone else...
Why should I be there for others
When no one is here or there for me?
I have already acclaimed how lonely I am.
Yet nothing else, but this same path,
Is willing to change.
Not that I am incapable of making friends...
I just intuitively know who is genuine
By the sound of their voice and words.
A voice within a voice once had spoke to me.
Asked for something from me...
I've given it to you ever since:
A loyal, close-yet-faraway bond.
Same for you, same for me;
That eternal fondness is there.
Yet somedays it feels so scarce.

Disdain I feel.
This wound may never heal.
You've attempted, but
Only dragged me further
Into temptation of resentment.
People change and
So I expand my emotional range.
Companionship once my devotion,
Is now a post-revolution.
Broken belief in friendship,
I shall never believe again.
For the truest
Are those who cast upon me pain.
I will not allow my past
To be everlasting in my life.
It is time to dispose
Of this strife.
I am forever letting go...
You have no idea
Just how I feel.

The day I met you,
I at first saw you as strange.
But then, later in time,
I realized that it's just your disguise.
I never felt so lucky
Before you said you loved me.
There aren't many guys in the world
Who don't despise looks.
Yet you are the one who seems the most true.
Maybe deep down, I love you too...
And I'm not sure why
I stopped you from suicide.
I guess I just want others to follow
The guiding light that always helped me through.
Although I think that,
You say that I'm probably in love with you.
If that is really true,
Then I can't handle hearing your voice,
Life as if your feelings for me
Are forcing me to love you without a choice.
I can't even handle such love,
At least not yet.
For now I just want to keep my bets of me
Finding another person.
And I don't find anyone like you,
Then I'll become yours
Just for you...

To Sea
I would like to think that
The big, white birds soaring
Over choppy waters
Or the way my camera captures
A straight, bold beam of light
Is a vision of sorts –
A gift from you,
To me.
This vision would say:
“Hey!
I’m still around,
Right here –
I linger where our bodies first touched on
Warm summer ground”
I would like to think that
You are watching us,
Now –
The strips of bark have become
Sea worthy vessels;
The children, captains of
Sticks-and-Sand,
They run amok, marvelously
On this jutting peninsula
Just as, once, you and I.
I would like to think that
We haven’t lost touch –
Not really;
You are merely seeking solace in
Strong, biting winds as they
Blow by the dockside;
That you are merely warming
Wings yet too weak to
Fly.
I would like to believe that
The caress of breath on my
Shoulder is you.
I turn.
You are gone.

Parents are so busy and pre-occupied with their
own lives,
They never flinch when the doorbell rings twice,
They yell for the children to open the door,
Chastising them forevermore.......
Yet, parents get upset when the children disappear,
When they vanish into thin air,
They blame everyone except themselves
for not doing their due diligence,
If parents really cared they wouldn't
throw their children to the wolves,
Who knows what lurks behind the doors,
Sometimes vagrants, up to no good!
If parents aren't able to handle their tasks
and have responsibilty for the kids,
They should seek a Mr. Belvedere
whose only task would be to bow and scrape,
and opening the doors so the children won't vanish
or escape.

Feels limiting living in a small place...
I retrace all my sorrows and joys
In a region I’ve personally proclaimed as my home.
Within my mind is only a dream of another place.
Another desire and wish of mine is to be set free.
I am sorry, but I must leave... My mind shall turn into a fixated set of
Feelings of missing of my young prayed-for angels
(My baby brother and my little sister).
Farewell for a while, my friends,
For I will go onto a journey (alone or not alone, doesn’t matter).
As I keep this decision (to be true to myself and honest of myself),
I shall be able to continue my very own life with precision.
So farewell and be glad for yourselves,
Even when everything feels out of your own range,
Please remember how I perceived life through
Changings of thinking and changes of maturing mind.

Since the day I was born
You were always my friend,
And I'm sure we'll be friends until the end.
I'm not sure what I would be doing without you...
My dearest friend,
We always come back together in a happy end.
I have always loved you as a best friend.
And I am glad I reunited with you again.
When I met you, my wonderful friend,
I slowly began realizing
What makes a true friendship...
It's not always about what me
And my friend have in common,
So I must always try to stick to them thick and through.
But when I do stop being around
Someone because I'm not being true,
It seems that my bonds become deeper
And the matter of the smallest differences
And the past are steeper.
Meaning that we don't need to walk down those steep stairs,
Where we went different paths,
But it seems that no matter which way I go
I always end up with being one of you again.
My true friends, I want to forever sustain our friendships.

Lost in a world
I try so hard
to remember these days
the days (of yore) we're together
Lost in an open Place
you know they're never coming back
never coming back
Alone now
So Alone now
we're Alone now
Done and Gone
I'm Alone
You're leaving

I've sat through countless therapy sessions
Depsite contrary belief a child can experience depression
for acting human they had labeled me bipolar and damaged
told me having emotions was a disadvantage
But I insist the crazy are truly sane
how could you be rational when life's insane
times passes and everything will change
for better or worse the expected will be rearranged
Exposed to the truth that our society is a cage
you grow up accept your fate making minimum wage
I saw the world for what it was at a young age
`
Dreamt I'd be a writer, but knew no ink would ever fill the page
Life is not measured by dollar bills or cheap thrills
Nor by the number of earth's hills covered in garbage fills
The American dream starts to make sense
when you're tangled in that white picket fence
Caught up in all the magazines
like brainless chimpanzees
trying to imagine a world without purpose
where the delusion of god is believed by the surplus
Comparing our lives without compromise
the devil promises vices hastening the demise
spoon fed fairtales that lead us along
genius now prostituting themselves in Honk Kong
Follow the light until it grows dim
starve your dreams until they grow slim
that dying torchlight once kept you so warm
now it's flames engulf you like a swarm.

Death is only a dream,
That seems like eternity,
From which you wake up...
And then find yourself
Someplace, somewhere else.
Another has taken their own life,
Again these people are feeling
Even more emotional strife.
Once have had thoughts of doing the same…
(To eventually give up on my own life…)
But then I give consideration
Towards other people’s
Thoughts and feelings…
I’ll give them each a lifetime’s moments of me
Being alive…
As I go through this dark tunnel,
I always strive for the light at the end.
For now, those who are gone,
Their spirit brighten this lantern of mine.

Life is such a Journey
It's Truly a quest
So many years can pass
and we still wonder where we are
Maybe there's an answer
Maybe There's only a Question
We're towards the end
But we still Do Not Know
So who am I?
Will I ever know?
I'm sure there's an answer
Not just a question
But how do I know
That it's the truth?
As an Angel Sang to Me
I Ignored her
Maybe what She Said
Was The Answer that allowed The Answer
Maybe when She Said
"Just Search Stay True
When it is Time to Anew
And Something Rises
Ask The Heart
That Is where I Breathe"

When I was just young,
I had only time,
Hardly even friends,
No love of myself
It did not matter,
Young and so dumb,
Remembering,
Had no details
Never needed,
Then I changed,
Thinking old,
But still young,
Ageless
So old,
Rash

Kendall
Daughter, sister, student and friend
Daughter of Courtney and Malcolm Dyer
Lover of food, television and movies
Who feels hungry, depressed and lonely
Who fears lions, hippos and elephants
Who would like to see a giraffe, Sponge Bob Squarepants and Scooby Doo
Who resides in Orlando, Florida
Dyer

Playing softly thinking of your first day of school scary teacher but fun words
Growing up too slow with long moments become a blur learning proceeds timeless
Frustration social anxiety but independent understanding self awareness unique me
Branding, marking, making your own way in life challenging forthright don’t always agree
The arduous years of forced study ended memories linger sad happy embarrassing even
Now what do I do stand tall be something for you or find the bird inside my soul and fly
Time to be free experience more love more fear on my own stepping out
Playing softly thinking of life and your first day as a teacher, time to use fun words again

Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
No cares, no worries just fun and play
Knows that there will be other days
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
Responsibilities, homework if you please
Busy, busy as little bees
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
Dances, parties, stay out late
College will soon be the fate
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
College fun in the fall
Just out having a ball
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
Down the isle in the dream gown
Wearing her royal crown
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
Children gathered around
Like mother hen's clicking sound
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
Wave good-bye, the last is gone
Have started their own family homes
Swiftly flows the sand
Bumping other grains as it lands
Empty nest, can now really rest,
Here comes God's best

Their actions have their consequences,
Why bother putting up my defenses?
It won’t make me feel better, even if I cried…
But God will keep me justified.
I ignore their jokes and take no action,
Why should I give them the satisfaction?
They may weaken my strength or injure my pride…
But God will keep me justified.
They never show remorse for the things they say,
Why should I take offense to their ignorance anyway?
They don’t know how I feel, so melancholy inside…
But God will keep me justified.
No matter how hard I try to ignore it, I can’t block it out of my mind,
Their cruelty replays itself over in my head, as if it’s on rewind,
They make me want to disappear, I want to run and hide,
But God will keep me justified.
Their taunting only proves that they don’t respect me,
Why should I take it personally when I know it doesn’t reflect me?
Although I want to punish them, I just let it slide…
But God will keep me justified.
They got out of control this time,
And now they have to pay for their crime,
No longer will I let this be…my justice will not be denied…
God will keep me justified
They say they’re sorry…I wonder if they meant it?
It doesn’t matter anyway…they’ll still have to repent it,
One day they’ll have to see the truth and open their eyes wide….
Either way…God kept me justified.

I was baptized into
The Anglican faith when I was a baby,
Therefore I have always been "saved"
Through how Yeshua (Christ)
Long ago set a magnificent
Example of how mankind
Should be; in harmony with both
His divine side and human side,
Through long awaited everchange
in my thoughts and feelings,
Thanks to the Holy Spirit
(which is in all of us).
I am grateful for what I've learned in life,
So far, I have gained much
introspection and perception,
and it is thanks to the Lord of all lords,
The God of all gods
For making me who I am,
believe I am, think I am, feel I am,
and who I was always meant to be.
If God once said "I Am That I Am",
then we all truly are all "God's Children".
We are all equally imperfect,
But also equal in potential to be like Him.

I.
Jilly's laugh is somewhere between
a hiccup and a sigh
teeth shimmering
little porcelain cups
like the ones
I used in
Victorian doll houses
when I was five
perfectly glazed and rounded.
II.
Her
late arrival
like a Picaso painting
brightly colored
flecks of roses and blues
all feet and limbs
flailing
simultaneously
in proportion to her belly.
III.
Yesterday
she flew
over a crack in the sidewalk.
We had been eating
wild strawberries,
her fingers were dyed with them
and her blood,
it fell to the sidewalk
in perfect red rain drops.
I think
my heart stumbled
in it's puddle.

What causes me grief
Is also what gives me relief...
A bog of tears is what makes me think
It has all disappeared,
My glasses fog because of the mist.
This thing is what causes my woe
Yet it has some truth
That makes me feel so happy...
It does not seem to understand me,
I try to tell what''s bottled up inside
And try to put it under a spell,
Even if I do, I''ll go through such inner pain again & again.
For without it or the other way,
My soul won''t live happily
Or won''t be able to change...
My days will always have colours,
For grey shall be in the night,
Because that is when my thoughts of thou take flight...
Oh it is my hate and love,
It is my grief and happiness,
It is both worthful
And worthless...
I can never decide
Because the pain will always reside.

i shall not be able to take one step here
without a kind thought on earth
i shall have no navigation
without a smile in memory of me
i shall have no vision
without the wish to be seen once again
i am here and they are all there
they are all there coming to meet me soon
here, making this place a comfortable room

On my free period
On the ash fault
I lay and smell like rubber and heat
Frying on the black-top
It’s so damn hot out here
But I don’t want to move
Because if I do I’ll have to speak
Someone will ask me what’s wrong
‘Cause you can’t just lay on the black-top and think
In sleeves so long and dark
With hair so dark a halo
I must be burning up
But no one will question until I sit up
Am I sad they will ask
What happened and I’ll say
Nothing out of the ordinary
Just more of the same old things
Same old pains
Then they’ll make me see a councilor
So for now I will lay
Frying on the black-top
Cold burning hot and numb
And mutter that I’m fine

You know, when the sky is grey,
You should go somewhere today
And bring the sunshine by going for a bike ride
To a friend's house.
If it rains as you're riding in exhaustion and pain,
Don't slow down,
Cause at the end there's happiness to gain.
Laughing with a friend or two,
Is perfect for the things around you.
Having fun will make the sun
Bring a line along those clouds.
Then it'll shine through.
This all happens because of that mood.
Friendship will always bring a rope to cheerfulness.
And I truly agree,
Because this often happens to me.

Given so much to others in my life...
Written sincerities to my friends.
Forgiveness of their mistakes and
For those who once hurt me verbally.
Many times I have generously given
A dollar to those in need of it...
No returning owe to pay, they forget,
Yet I still remain generous and gracious.
I'd give my life for all my friends
If I could and ever have such a chance.
They my friends have not been with me
For as many times as they've been with each other.
My life journey though
Is of self-reliance...
My mind is of sincerity
And generosity.
I give so much...
Even though they rarely do the same,
I continue to this strong
Sense and feeling of loyalty anyway.

My brother
could hibernate through
anything.
Even the nights of unmitigated fury
that expelled itself in blasts of white, frothy
spittle
from the corners of father’s lips.
He was a cocooned worm nestled
in the bed at the back of my room
while
mom held the cheap aluminum door,
maintaining our homeostasis,
shut.
On the other side
my father, a wounded creature
Hissing, crackling,
Insane.
would bang
until the vibrations shook my very breath.
Colin
never really understood
being fourteen
and
scrubbing out the night’s fury
that stained the carpet
in crimson ponds.
The smell of a bucket
of warm pink soapy water
and the
red that never really washed out
He would not understand the game
I made of it
blood spot, ink blot test
This one looked like a butterfly,
And this one A father and daughter,
And this one a bottle of pills.
This boy who brought home
matted and framed pictures from kindergarten
Crayon colored pleasant family,
crayon colored pleasant home

Inside of me,
The child cries
For she’s scared and lonely and needs of comfort.
Inside of me,
The adult yells
And tells the child to be strong.
Inside of me,
The elder laughs-
She knows the way things ought to be.

I have it all here,
Yet it's you that I want near.
My heart still believes
You to be a dear part of me.
What more do I need
When I already have
Everything indeed?
I have a dream,
Yet something that first should be
Redeemed would be
My generosity and honesty.
Bringeth me renewed feeling
You have done through
Your deed of befriending me.
I have it all already,
Though truly you are everything
I have searched for,
For what seems to be an eternity.

In the hills of West Virginia, at a log house he called home,
Is where grandpa spent so many years, though other places he did roam.
He was a country man at heart, and seemed a man before his time.
He would study books for hours, yet no mountain he can't climb.
He'd been a farmer, and coal miner, and a secret service agent too.
He loved his bible and his garden, never once did he seem blue.
Open-minded, and religious, he had views that few could see;
And even though i was a youngster, he would spend much time with me.
He was old, and wise, and feeble. Saw much life before he died.
When i heard that he had passed away, i just hung my head and cried.

You will never get anywhere in life
If you keep running away from your problems.
You must stop hiding and running,
Stand in front of your problem
And run right through it.
Then and only then is when you find happiness.
Going through your problem will be painful and slow,
Be strong and you'll finally get through.

Ya know what's currently happening as of this moment.
The way I am channeling my own thoughts and what I am typing here...
In a very positive and powerful manner.
The light bulb above me, on the ceiling,
All of a sudden has a rainbow circular light around it
And it was flickering as if it was getting brighter!
Incredible what I saw with my own eyes,
By holding back my blinking tendency,
I had seen proof of my new positive thinking...
Why am I all of a sudden
Writing these poems outta the blue.
It is true that this is my own sort of talent,
In a certain sense,
Right now though something amazing
Is happening to my thought frequencies.
A-a-amazing I am currently
Doing all this thinking
And am so peacefully
Self-believing and self-trusting,
Self-realizing and self-liberating.

Those days were filled
With joy and singing.
Because of that;
My present days are now worth living
And smiling through.
Remember during a storm,
We've seen a rainbow
Through a window
That was part of a room
Where we pretended to have feathers
And danced around an invisible fire.
Bonds are like a rainbow;
The happiness that was shared
Eventually fades away.
Though such a bond is gone,
Another rainy day goes by
And the rainbow appears again.
So now... I'll always remember
That life is like a sea
(An ocean of memories)....
And even though "friend" has
The word "end"...
There is a "ship" in "friendship"
(Which leaves and returns).
I shall always remember such a metaphor...

Roy Rogers and Red Ryder rode on that black and white stage—
It was the best of times, to be a kid of any age.
Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy – that Durango Kid—
They kept us shootin’ outlaws and drinkin’ milk – yes, they did!
We ate up that cereal and sent away for those things,
Like trick lassos, milk mugs, masks and those plastic cowboy rings.
It was another time of Mix and Tim McCoy, I’ve heard--
When men rode horses and ‘cowboy’ weren’t a four-letter word!
They have not rode into sunsets, as they were apt to do—
They’re now on the mountaintops of the minds of me and you.

My words don’t exactly flow in consistency,
But in the end (in something like a personal essay),
They eventually all tie together.
My own kind of thinking
Depends on only whether I should
Or really want to take things (and meanings)
Out of their original context
And make (turn it all into) something of mine, my own.

Keeping me ill for eleven years,
Makes me wonder why for so long,
Then I realize it was Your plan [for my life] all along.
You are so real, I can just feel
The safety when I ask You to hold me.
Faith in most people is dying,
Many people are crying.
Wonder where You are.
I don't like to believe scientists are perfectly smart
(Nor do I like to believe religious leaders are righteous),
Because I know that Your Power is at work.
You bring others home by making them die,
That way they'll never need to cry again.
You keep some alive from accidents,
So they can accomplish what they were put here to do.
I believe You're walking us through,
To the end of this World Age,
To Your Revelation,
To Thy Kingdom that's been longed to come.

Time flies
When I daydream and write.
Though I despise this place,
I know without a doubt
It is where I learned
Every trace of my thoughts.
My heart is solitary,
Though is so deep,
It feels as if
I may never find
What these feelings of mine
Always dream.
I write my poetry
Through love, feelings
And even hate.
In this life I seem fated
To forever be lingering
Within this world
With faded dreams and feelings.
This state of mine
Is so misleading,
I must find more meaning.
Time flies
When I am glancing into
The clear blue skies.
The sun rises
And my soul realizes
Every day, every lifetime
Is a new beginning.
As I am writing,
I am thinking, searching
For this life's meaning.

there’s a lump in my throat.
a lump of all the problems
i tried to swallow.
to hide.
There’s a pain in my stomache.
the pain of all
the problems
i tried to swallow.
There’s a shortness of breath-
inside my lungs
from the hidden lump,
and the people surrounding
closing in.
there’s a murmur in my heart
from all the things
i do regret
to have said,
and not.
there’s a hope in my head
that sometime
i’ll awake from this
coma,
to a warm white coat,
who’ll tell me i’m better.
the one who’ll shut off
the heart machine,
and give me their beat
to help me
along.
but right now
visiting time’s over,
and all i have to talk to
is the respirator.

Deepening my answers
Another challenger awakes
To reveal to me my shadows
To then witness my mistakes
Always I had listened
In close proximity
To self-inflicted violence
To the end of harmony
Casting shadows in the sunlight
I was trapped within the walls
Where a child then controlled me
Until the buildings grew too tall
My darkness took this moment
Of self-deceiving fear
To climb above my reason
And to whisper in my ear
“All shadows are connected”
He showed me this is true
“And whatever you’ve inflicted
Is the dead reflection of your youth”
I woke up then to realise
Several centuries had passed
And all within five years
The walls had gone at last
Deepening this vision
The challenger draws breath
Now walking through the mirror
My shadow exerts the pain that’s left

Ah, that smell of bread from Home Ec.,
Just can't be real to me,
Because school just seems to be a part of everyone's misery,
But then I realize
The bread from there is as real as a bakery's.
And when I'm with my friend,
The fun of bugging her in the hallways
Never seems to end.
Then I take one more look at what school is like,
I begin to admit to myself
That it's not so bad,
But when my mother gets mat at me
About homework
I stress about how hard it all seems
And think that my teachers are all jerks.
But I always finish it off in the end,
And then the whole cycle goes around again.
The truth is, I always change my mind and say
My teachers are so nice that I could consider them friends,
Sometimes I only pretend to like them.
But what's worse then teachers
Is how I see people smoke
And hear their choices about drinking and parties.
I stare at them and think, "They're gonna be really ugly..."
'Cause I'll never give into peer pressure,
Because my only pleasures are a lot better.
High school is such a big thing,
That when the bell rings
A rush of students go up and down the stairs.
Once you get to class,
Sems like the assignment you get is a pain in the ass,
And it feels like the day will never end,
Especially if you don't have a friend.
I always want to sleep-in, but when I wake up
I think school is so lame,
And sometimes I sleep through the whole day.
And when the sky is grey,
It always seems to be trying to say
That there should be no sun rays on a day at school.
But then, I think through it again and believe that there will
Always be good and bad things in whatever life will bring.

There, just beyond that dream. There’s my life ripped at the seam.
Then there’s my friends, the pot-heads and dope feens.
And there’s a hole, in the dark; void of light; missing a soul.
Glowing with ambition. Growing in shame.
A blur to sight, a mentality of pain.
There, just beyond what’s real
You’ll never know just what I feel
And here, are my sins…Scabs of dirt, that’ll never heal.
My pain has a taste, like rust and copper
Like copper and rust, I steadily waste
A constant reminder, of what I’ve lost
Oh just what you’ll pay for trust. Just what is the cost?
The fire is in the human head. We’re the reason of our falling
And already fallen dead. For the “tree” is gone.
We’ve choked her, and she was never fed.
Like untamed weeds, we’ve sucked her dry
Though we carry on, mutating our future’s seeds
Now look into my eyes, see what’s written on my face
Our true lives are gone. We’re just a dying breed out of place.
Here…Right here…around and above
I’ve gone blind in my search for unconditional love
So I hope you remember. I hope you can recall
Yourself being the symbolic death of Peace; a fallen dove.
I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry for “us.”
I hate that the truth leaves confusion,, and not knowing what to do
There once was something here, that was of color, for lease
Then rented, used, and destroyed.
So I hope you’re happy, PHukcers, how you’ve disrespected our deceased.

When I look back on all those years,
I notice that almost everything has disappeared.
You were my best friend,
And I thought we'd be that way til the end.
But thanks to my stupid mistake,
I'm not sure where I should start again.
I've been having dreams of you,
Wondering if the meanings are true.
That I love you... like a sister,
Most of the time I think of you,
Missing everything old about you.
We used to laugh hard at things,
And be together in the same classroom.
But after seperating so far away,
Our friendship seemed it was never meant to stay...
And my foolish mistake made us far more far away.
I fear that if I come to you,
I'd have to explain the truth,
That I never really wanted to accept you
After you changed.
And before, whenever someone came close to you,
I felt jealous and never wanted a friendship triangle.
I felt so close to you,
You were other things to me besides a soul sister or good friend.
Then I start to wonder if you're fine,?Without me in your life.
Well there's one thing I could say,
Is that I hope that some day,
I come and see you and be friends again.
But I don't know where to begin...
If only I can apologize,
I'm not sure why I stopped being friends...
All I can say is that I miss you...

Though we’ve been labeled the second string we will resonate the loudest.
The profoundness will be heard in our voice for we will speak deep and roar the loudest.
Ironic because our cries fell on your deaf ears.
Because of you in sorrow we have drowned.
Now it is our grandness that drowns your voice out.
You wished not to stand with us and instead chose to topple us.
Now it’s over you where we stand.
With fire in one hand and ire in the other we will show you how mistaken you are.
We will no longer be the oars you used to paddle across the pond,
For we’ve become the precious metals you will never again stumble upon.
As of now your sentiments are irrelevant.
For now you must be another soul walking on this earth who must learn to live with regrets.
We are the strong who you’ve mistaken as the weak.
You can't even remember us as the ones who got away.
For we are the memories you cannot keep.
Again and again you’ve plucked our strings.
Like a violin we’ve continuously been played.
You grew tired of our melodies only to find out that it was because of your hands,
That our symphonies had been delayed.
With sounds that become astray we continue to grow louder.
Your ridicule diminishes.
Your voice becomes fainter.
The harmonics in our harmony continue to echo.
We were looked down upon.
But with our heads raised we now recognize we were the ones passed on.
You've passed judgment on us but it’s now we who look past you.
And though our pride is what you now detest.
It’s excuses from your hands that we wrest.
We will continue to roar.
We will continue to smile
We set the tone to be wild.
We will continue to be the sound that causes your unrest.
For we are the second string.
We will resonate the loudest.

I ain't got no money,
But I work my butt off,
Every single day.
I work so I can have a place to stay
All of the time,
I work to get half of your dimes,
That you drop when you go down to flop.
Unlike you I never have time to watch the clock.
I got a degree that I don't use,
Because of the negligent leaders that you choose.
Unskilled labor aids the campaign.
You talk about me,
But you don't care to know my name.
I got skills:
But I have to pay the bills.
I want to be like you and cruise on a yacht.
I'm building what you bought.
I'm putting your house on a lot.
I'm scrubbing your pots.
I'm working as an indentured servant.
Hoping that I get what I'm deserving,
But for the time being: I'm slaving,
Dancing to my homemade tunes,
Complaining to colleagues, who are
also on their knees praying for life
To get better, Singing strongly the
Blue Collar Blues.
written 9-5-04
while still a college studenta

All my life,
I was often alone and felt alone...
But now I'm only beginning
To realize and see
That plan You made for me.
It's the path the independence,
It's the lonely road to self-reliance,
The dark moments for me
To break through.
Now I only realize
That I'm forever in a
Pattern of destiny...
I can feel it,
I can just tell
What kind of spell I am in.
My friends come and go,
Yet in the stream of time
At certain moments
Each of one eventually
Returns to me.
Now I can see
What kind of life
You've given me...
It's filled with
Patterns of destiny.

If Aiming For Beauty
Pretty, Is Nice
But Plain Vanity
Is A Venal-Vice
Inner Beauty: Is A Necessity
Outer Beauty: (Maybe) Superficiality
Outer Beauty: May Impress Memory
But Inner Beauty: Lasts An Eternity
Now, As A Teen
I Did Preen
Too Much Esteem
Oldest, Sister Seen …
So, As A Teen, I Was Told
Advice To Shape- Mold
Words: Worthy-Gold
Listen: Behold …
“You Are Pretty, Yes It’s True
But Just Wait A Minute or Maybe Two
All In Time and Life’s View
Will Come Someone … Prettier Than You
So, Don’t Be A Victim-in-Error
Like The Queen, due to Snow White and A Mirror
Of Course, There’ll Be Somebody Fairer
So, Don’t Be A Silly-Comparer …
… ‘Cause, The Prettiest Person
Is Ugly To Someone
And The Ugliest Person
Looks Good To Somebody, Hon …
Lovely, Is As Lovely Do …
Be A Portrait and Not Just Surface-Cute
Be A Shame, If Someone Spends Time With You
And Sees, Ain’t Nothing Else, Or Nothin’ New
‘Cause I’ve Seen People
Who Were ‘Knock-Outs’ ! …
That is, Until
They Opened Their Mouths
And Revealed Hostility
In Hearts
Made Attraction-Desirability
… Depart
See: Mean and Envy
And A Barb-Wire Tongue
And Harm and Dumb …
Starts When Young
So, Strive To Be Kind
A Gentle Heart-Smile
Clean and Sweet
And Your Own-Love-Style
… Also Godly Fear
And Inner Beauty Will Appear
Your Outer Beauty Will Be Clear …”
… My Stunning Sister, I Still Hear …
“Beauty … Is In The Eye Of The Beholder”
Especially True … As We Grow Older
(I'm Remembering Jenny ... I'm Remembering)

I’ve been soul searching my entire life,
Looking for some meaning and a clue that
I could piece together some kind of philosophy,
But all I’ve found is emptiness.
Everything has crumbled around me like a
sand castle and no one’s there to help repair it.
I’ve lived in shattered independence, but
like a naked child I’m cold and alone.
I feel the judging stares surround me,
analyzing my every action, never
Considering the pain I’ve suffered that
haunts me.
I’m late to find the answer, so I’m
stuck asking the question.

Inside the forest of tall teak trees
Far from the clamor of the town.
At the foot of the green mountain
Where a stream was flowing down.
Sitting on a piece of rock,
And looking at the flow of water.
I was listening to its music,
Enjoying the beauty of the nature.
The serenity and silence was lost
As some kids of a school picnic party,
Sneaked into the stream in sheer delight
And made it muddy and dirty.
A boy pushed the baby from behind.
She got wet and cried.
He then asked her out of fear
“How could it be dried?”
The headmistress when shouted at them
They looked each other for a while.
And rushed out of the water
Hand in hand, exchanging a silly smile.
I looked back at the stream.
The water was already calm and clean.
It’d washed off the dirt out of her heart
For the flow was serene and divine.

Nothing else
But secrets between all
Of who we are...
Thy dreams of a different love
Found within the envisions of
Betrayal, and dream of I and
A proclaimation of sending someone to their maker.
Seemingly unwilling,
To give me thy trust...
Never have I spoken
Of secrets that had
Once left you broken,
Only those relevant enough
Are whom I white-lyingly tell,
Yet not all secrets are
Ever revealed...
Trust me, otherwise
My mind shall not stop
Aching and echoing of the lies
Which once separated me
And my feelings away
From you...

Children of the upper crust
upon the earth...........
that must be us!
They draw a circle on the ground,
so they can dance the moon around,
and then they draw another one,
so they can promenade the sun.
Put lightning bugs in mason jars,
so they can twinkle like the stars.
Why do you always come around
to moralize and fuss and frown?
"Because I have no inner child
I'm just a parent,always riled,
When I see children having fun,"
But it's party time the work is done!
They made a barrel full of tea,
with jujubes for you and me.
They even brought a phonograph
the wind up kind to make you laugh.
but you have never laughed out loud,
you wear your silence like a shroud
a shroud of pure maturity
no inner child could hope to free.
But there's a tickle potion dear,
I think they put it in your ear.
It takes you back to one or two,
when someone stole the child from you.
So don't look now ,but you may find,
the little girl inside your mind.

I said I put my past behind me,
But sometimes it still haunts me,
Repeating itself
All those thoughts come back,
And I begin to go off track.
I know I said I was stronger,
But somehow it's a lie
But I know I'll be able to get by,
Sometimes I need to cry,
I may wish to die...
But that's not my final decision,
Somehow I'll realize those bad thoughts are just illusions,
Sometimes though, they are completely true,
But deep down I know,
That there are people who will help me get through.
My emotions are always fleeting,
The next time you see me depressed,
You'll later see me all happy.
But deep down I am sad about something,
It will never go away, but I am always fighting it,
Continuously shredding this saddness down to bits.

Please ignore my tears,
Because there’s always
Myself I have.
Sorry if I’m rude,
I apologize for
Letting myself hide such pain.
I’ll eventually feel better,
Shall be calm.
I can’t help but miss my friends..
Can’t fight back nostalgia…
I often even look too far ahead.
Feelings of anxiety
Lingers within me…
So many reasons and excuses
I can use to remain silent,
And to explain.
In the end though,
No one will truly understand.
So I’ll remain reliant
Upon myself.
Will try not to depend
On anyone else.

It's funny, how the first precious gift you've given me
Had coincided with a certain song I keep hearing.
I always started dreaming
Of seeing you again,
After I made our friendship disappear for two years.
I went from crying tears of sadness
To tears of gladness.
The skies and the seas are always my true blues,
Seas that were as deep as me missing you,
And the sky
Is where the gift that came from you
Flew away.
It came back to me spiritually
And it's given me my old strength again.
My memories of me and you
Shall never end,
Because I know, that no matter where I go,
My blue bird of happiness will always
Show me the way back
To where we last left track of each other.
Now I truly feel that we are best friends for real.
Seems like we'll be friends forever,
If we are not
Then I will always keep my most prized treasures.
Because you were one of my bestest friends.
Thank you, my friend
For my blue bird of happiness.

Resulting from the purest love, sparkling bundle of joy
A perfect gift from up above this healthy baby boy
Opened my eyes felt safe and warm right from the very start
Loved family became the norm, foundations of my heart
As I grew the joy we shared became my main desire
Trials and tribulations bared was something to admire
Proud man I am today for that I thank you very much
A soulmate now the aim to pass a love as great as such
Greatest moment of my life, the ring slipped on my finger
“I now pronounce you man and wife”, these words forever linger
Continuous stipulation meant her dreams had been achieved
A day of jubilation when we found she had conceived
Longed for this day since I was little, the day of my child’s birth
Our livelihood became brittle, a complicated girth
50/50 chance, saved her to try again in future
but unforgiveness gained became my everlasting torture

“Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear,”
My ol’ grand pap used to day.
When I came up shy when braidin’ hair
From my ol’ dun horse or bay.
It was just his way of tellin’ me
That I come up a bit short,
In some endeavor I could not see
And did not care for a snort!
I did not quite know what grand pap meant
‘Bout those spurs I did not have—
I thought it just some talkin’ ill spent
To heal my young wounds like salve.
But on that sad day my grand pap died,
I knew the truth of his words—
He gave me those silver spurs and cried
As I heard the sound of birds.
“Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear,”
My grand pap said on that day,
“So wear them proudly and do not care
What some fool folks just might say.”
And though those spurs are ol’ and tarnished,
I wear them with all my pride—
‘Cause grand pap told the truth unvarnished
On the final day he died.
“Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear”—
Those words stick now in their way—
“I got some mighty fine spurs to wear”—
My son will wear them some day.

Invisible Door
Sometime one day somewhere one when
Maybe Friday or September two thousand and ten
Or nineteen sixty five
Someday I’m not too sure
It must’ve been then
I stepped somehow
Or miss-stepped someway
And through and into the invisible box
I didn’t realise it at the time
I couldn’t see it or when
And where ever I went
I moved inside and with it with me
We moved and were together
The invisible box and me
And in my sleep with my dreams
While waking
Slowly I so slowly I slowly vanished
Inside the invisible box
Slowly so very, very slowly
My thought became quiet
More words less than complex
And mouthing silence
I slipped from the mornings
From the mirror
And wandered nonentity
Through the toy town late at night streets
And my heart became more secret
As did my language
So my eyes became more veiled
And recognised no one
Steadily surely disappearing into nothing
The …….. ness of something inside the invisible box
And time passes in the invisible box
The years drift and life continues
A daily invisible and hourly incognito
So ………………………. ?
Now ………………………?
Who am I ?
Where am I ?
Though I know exactly these things
It makes no difference
As I continue existence
Inside the invisible box
Am I happy ?
Am I sad ?
Are my hands searching for the invisible door
Of the invisible box ?
But I think though I am not sure
It takes another hand
Someone else’s hand
To open the invisible door of the invisible box
For a long, long time now nothing has entered
And nothing leaves
A series of moments
Seen through a window or is it a T.V. screen
Though I think
Though I’m not sure
I remember everything
Funny but I can’t seem to recall just when it was
Someday one time one where some when
Maybe it was Tuesday or February two thousand and twenty
Or maybe even nineteen eighty nine
I must have miss-stepped some way
And walked into the invisible box
And time runs out and nothing you do
Goes beyond repeating
A slow steady sickness as the world forgets me
Inside the invisible box
The invisible box
Inside the invisible box
I am
nobody

i had nothing but love and hope from the very start, but depravity began slowly filling the thing i once called a heart, murder has become my most desired form of art, it will affect my conscience none when i hack your body apart. a loving child filled with the darkness no man should ever dare wish to seek, in the cold blood soaked arms of insanity held is the tormented mind of a freak. watch him become the very monstrosity he always prayed he never would, the monstrosity that arose from the ashes of an infernal childhood; forgive me father for i did the best that i could.

Personally, my path in life
Is a lonely one towards self-reliance...
My heart's inner guidamce
Is what will keep me alive
(And what has kept me alive)...
My desire for freedom
And also for peace within my mind...
Let my strength increase.

A crippled devout is bedridden
None in his family to earn
His innocent, cherub children
Are dying of starvation!
With pouted lips they ask
‘O! relenting Lord hark!
To us why are you so merciless?’
Immutably He replies, ‘—Because you are faithless!!
‘The extortionist though he commits sin,
Prays me from his heart within!!’
Fie! Fie!! Relentless Lord!!!
Compassionate, clement Death! Be not proud!!

A pleasant meadow with rows of stones
Not of Nature but chiseled by men
Each one has a story, a meaning
Thousands of stones sharing their stories
Each one lovingly kissed with floral lips
Yet I easily find that one I seek
Its story speaks to me as no other can
I kneel
I pray
I sit
I talk
I listen
I swear
I hear
My grandfather calling my name
I clean his stone and bid him farewell
As I return to the world I wonder
Is he proud in Heaven
Of the man whose tears now flow?

Swallows framed on an evening sky
Thatch roofs singing a lullaby
Children's eyes set catch the stars
Old folk tales for tomorrow's scars
It was all there then
And perhaps is happening there again
The village around the log fire seated
Children in old ring games repeated
Since the first wattle hut
With lime-daubed stone gut
This is my Knoxwood, my memory
The page printed with the tapestry
Twittering like swallows in the air
Lamenting my exile and my despair.

To the Build-A-Bear Store
With granny in tow
Do you remember?
What was you four?
Say you remember
Only one or two
Well maybe three
Still sitting upon
Granny's knee
When we opened
The door to
The place
Why it was a
Virtual zoo
Animals wasting
To be filled
Waiting to be glued(sewn)
First you
Had to put a
Heart from
The very start
Then you
Pressed the
Button and
Filled the
Animal with
Stuffing
Then she
Sewed him
Shut
But he had
No clothes
You got
To pick them
Out from
500 different ones
You picked
A camoflauged
Paratroopers
Outfit just
For your
Beautiful
Green frog
Which you
Named
Turtle
I remember
Too

Sullen and defensive
(what's it to you?)
quietly disappearing
what difference does it make?
[tiny] and inferior
beaten into believing the propaganda
from [un]reliable sources
Her heart knew [stuck in survival mode]
nothing but self loathing and
self preservation. To her (unknowing) credit.
Strength.
Regarded as a “loose canon”
by proxy and
so it went.
Scarred.
A miracle.
In God’s eyes.

THEY WERE SO EXCITED ABOUT GETTING A FOSTER CHILD.
CHILDREN CAN BE MILD OR A LITTLE WILD.
FOR HER THEY LONGED,
BUT IN SO MANY WAYS SHE DIDN’T BELONG.
SHE WAS SAD ALL THE TIME
AND THEY DIDN’T KNOW WHY.
SHE WAS ALWAYS QUIET SO THE THOUGHT SHE WAS SHY.
KATIE COULDN’T LOOK THEM IN THE EYE.
EVERY NIGHT THEY HEARD HER CRY.
THEY DIDN’T REALIZE DEEP DOWN SHE WANTED TO DIE.
SHE WOULDN’T BATHE OF BRUSH HER HAIRE.
TRULY, SHE DIDN’T CARE.
SHE’D SIT BY HERSELF AND OFF IN SPACE SHE WOULD STARE.
SHE DIDN’T HAVE FRIENDS AND KIDS CALLED HER NAMES.
SHE WAS A VICTIM THE FIST DAY SHE CAME.
HER PARENTS DIDN’T KNOW WHO TO BLAME.
THEY BARRIED THEIR HEADS IN SHAME.
THEY DID EVERTHING THEY COULD TO BRING HER OUT,
BUT THEY DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THE DISTANCE WAS ABOUT.
THEY TALKED ABOUT TAKING HER BACK TO THE HOME,
AND THEN SHE FELT EVEN MORE ALONE.
SHE WORE LONG SLEEVE SHIRTS TO HIDE WHERE SHE CUT HER ARMS,
AND CAUSED SO MUCH HARM.
KATIE WAS FAILING EITH GRADE AND MOSTLY WENT ASTRAY.
SHE WENT TO THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE SHE WOULDN’T EAT.
SHE WAS BONES ALL THE WAY TO HER FEET.
AT FOURTEEN HER PARENTS FOUND HER DEAD.
SHE USED HER DADS GUN
AND PUT A BULLET IN HER HEAD.
IT WASN’T TILL LATER THEY FOUND OUT
WHAT HER SUICIDE WAS TRULY ABOUT.
KATIE WAS RAPED BY HER FATHER TILL SHE WAS TEN,
SHE WAS DEAD BEFORE SHE COULD BEGIN.
HER MOTHER WAS AN ACHOLIC DRUGGIE WHO LOVED WITH HER FIST
AND ENDED UP SLITTING HER WRIST.
KATIE WAS FOUND UNDERWEIGHT
AND ALMOST AT HER FINAL FATE.
SHE HAD TORN CLOTHES AN NAPPY HAIRE.
THE SOCIAL WORKER SAID LIFE JUST WASN’T FAIR.
SO BEFORE YOU JUDGE A PERSON ON HOW THEY APEAR TO BE,
REMEMBER KATIE.
EVERYONE HAS A STORY INCLUDING ME.

Feeling a bit nostalgic lately, my daughter is only nine for now, but how quickly it has
gone by.
I Blinked
by Amy Swanson
When I first brought you home
so wondrous to behold
little fingers, precious toes
tiny bundle of perfection
And then I blinked.
Nature through your eyes
Each day is a surprise
the time so quickly flies
you gaze at life with wonder
And then I blinked.
With baby steps you now explore
we'll never go back to before
you've opened up life's door
and stepped on through
And then I blinked.
First day of school came much too fast
Your toddler days I knew would pass
I wonder if my heart is glass
I feel it start to break
And then I blinked.
Packed away your little toys
you're now concerned with friends, and boys
and walk with such a graceful poise -
baby steps no more, you run so quickly.
And then I blinked.
Getting ready, that first date
can't we slow things down, please wait.
I hear echoes of yesterday -
the years have gone by much too rapidly.
And then...
I blinked.

Free me from the desecrated life that I live each day.
Torment me not anymore for my essence is awake.
She yearns to be free, not of the mind so trapped.
I have forfeited true happiness though there is joy.
Defile not the ones partnered in this strife.
To carry one within is just a notion of destruction.
These days and nights are bewildering with mystery.
Who would ask for this, no one of their free will?
No one deserves the dissection of the mind this way.
Though talent may be a gift disposed upon them.
What is the price or the payment for a barren soul?
She calls in the darkness, claws at other memories.
Which is the truth and which a lie, can we know.
A mind that is active in so many different styles.
An eye for beauty that comes from this insider,
An ear for the whispers of laughter so tormented,
Scent of distraction that delivers each to continue.
Touching of other souls is the key of both survivors.
Love and tenderness is the endurance before death.
I have felt these things in the past this is just a poem that shows the pain and uncertainty
that I have and i am sure others have had similar feelings and thoughts, only slightly
different.

do you know how many times
you & i’ve died?
i don’t think you do
let’s start with . . .
i fell out, fell far, fell hard
from a tree
you dropped off
the monkey-bars
i stepped into the invitation
of a stranger’s car
you grabbed a wire. . . bare
i dove, with confidence, in shallow water
you took a dare
i stayed too long on a railway track
you found a hill and ‘jack & jill’ed’ your back
in fact
both you & i. . . at the same time
tried something new
i went green, you turned out blue
i remember too
crossing against the light
looked left, should’ve looked right
it’s amazing to me, that we’re able to say
no matter how many times you & i’ve died
‘we live another day’

he sits in back of the class
The jocks throw paper airplanes
near the chump's little rear
Picking his nose-how gross!!
Laughter ensues
They all like to make fun of him the most
Teacher wants him to wear a dunce hat
Making sport of him is where the good times are at
NOSE PICKER
-SS GRABBER
FOUR-EYED FREAK
and more
The girlies all think he's a PERV
Especially big breasted Linda
She has the nerve
Billy Bully throws his books
Eyeing Melvin with threatening looks
John-boy the janitor
makes him eat some worm
20 slimy ones
to make the runt really squirm
NO NERDS DOWN THIS HALL
so says the dope dealers-6ft5inches tall
Poor Mel of the Dweeb sect
He hasn't somebody who could like him as yet
Some days are for the clique heirarchy
Others can be cruel to the meek and timid
LIFE IS NOT ALWAYS THAT FAIR,IS IT??

How I wonder about all these things sometimes,
About this, about that, and those little rhymes.
Why men fight, only to die,
Leaving all their families with tears in each eye.
The baby crying, I can hear the scream,
A solution is easily found or so it would seem.
Choices the young ones make,
Don’t blame them it is only a mistake.
How many chances?
Does the beautiful lady see the eyes of all the men as she dances?
What is to come of us all?
Will we be asking that after we O.D. in a club bathroom stall?
Did we, or should I say I, just let it all casually fade away?
I and myself, to me per sway.
Death is not a question, this we all know,
Until it comes it is a forbidden show.
How shall we then realize the answer?
The problem grows inside and its name is Cancer.
I don’t know what to say anymore,
Looking around I pace the floor.
The thoughts in my mind are beginning to multiply.
Into a catatonic state, I am now shy.
The answers I seek.
Ending looking bleak.
Before this all comes to its end,
Your mind I beg you, to me lend.
Take these inquiries to a smarter being.
One who has more insight than what you are capable of seeing.
Maybe then we can get what I want to find,
The answers to my questions in that brilliant mind.
Who am I kidding and why would they care?
I'm just a kid sitting on his front porch in a busted lawn chair.

Cold window pane
Or prison bars
For Susan they are the same
Her imagination runs free
As she is trapped inside
But outside the dream
She can hear echoes of autumn
Leaves chattering
Rustling amidst dancing feet
So many children laughing
Her heart racing
Asking
Why is that not me
Yet Susan feels nothing
Except her breath on the glass
As reality comes between
She struggles to understand
Her only playmate her hands
Rocking her dreams to sleep
Cold window pane
Or steel chair
For Susan they are the same
Her imagination runs free
As her legs are strapped inside
But outside the dream

Star light
Start bright
You look down
On me tonight
And oft I’ve wondered
How it would be
If I were you
And you were me.
Would you wish
On me tonight
If I shined
Sparkling and bright
Or would you choose
To go indoors
And not make wishes
Anymore?

Strange is it to me that we all grew up in the same Ghetto where
I came from.
Yet, we can’t see it’s not the white man we are trying to beat?
Take a look around you and tell me if you see what I see...
No white man, broke that glass in your street?
No white man, made that brother get drunk or high off weed?
No white man, made that brother steal your TV?
No white man, made that brother drop out of school?
No white man, made that brother put that gun to someone’s head?
The picture I see, is so plain to me, it’s just you and me?
You’re the one’s turning this place into this Ghetto you see...
So, you tired of the ghetto and you want to get out?
I think not? Because you’re all too busy blaming the white man for all your own
faults.

Brother, don’t spend lifetimes
alone sitting staring at electrified screens
or lost adrift in a sea of remorse
hours spent transient blown around like clouds, for
no one knows where you, or I, or our parents’ parents
came from, nor where resides the final resting place of the soul
but that we live, and live for but little
a meal, a warm bed, a fridge, a television
a car, a home, acceptance, joy, love
memories such as these condense and pack ever more tightly to your chest
as time wears on, ‘til by the end all is returned to nothingness
but know that no other man is you, no other life is your own;
may you forge ahead bold through your holy life,
and blaze a trail for lesser men to follow.

The first thing I saw when I awoke
In the beach were an embraced shark’s eyes
Where the waves broken in pieces into the long distance
Flowing underneath the sweet sand
And marking in every step I made in life other than me.
In every effort of my body and soul
Yelling out as if it were leaving a finger, an arm, a leg
As much as they begun to create a second of me;
A reviewing of my separated self until
I cannot yet conceive the ability of being me.
How I flung myself in that shark's eyes
Different from which I have witnessed in my young dream;
And the appeal that reborn from my last holding heart
An abyss filled with you. A caption of being
Nothing else than a receiver away from me.

Little voice
evokes
long ago
young Child
an innocent 13
Comic books
made him very clean
He was the World at Play
Simplistic and Charming
Looking beyond there
Yesterday
An eye toward the cloud
And a Whisper to that Jesus Kid
"Come and play
beside me for a moment
Ease my trembling shoulder
While the World that you've made
has gotten so much colder"
Memories still here
So is that child's voice
from years before
No more or less important
Those Baseball cards
are still behind that door
Waiting for Come Back Children
to return home and play again
once more

Where I was born -
Gumaca, Quezon
a significant place,
a town suffused with history.
It’s almost at the tail-end
that long stretch of Quezon.
A lot of coconut trees
the source of many creations –
like oil, wine, vinegar, and many others
common in Tagalog region.
Houses in the mainland,
were razed by fire a number of times.
antiquated buildings
with Spanish influence in architecture
they’re already gone, just a vivid mem’ry.
As a child growing –
in a cul-de-sac road
fear hovered and made us stay home
with unconventional crowds
in our neighborhood.
We knew each other
we formed relationship
as friends and caring neighbors.
The church and municipal hall
a rendezvous for sacred celebrations,
cultural shows and other functions;
a linkage to unity and appreciation.
Our schools – both public and Catholic,
made a great contribution,
along with religious devotions
in our educational formation.
My childhood classmates,
friends and acquaintances
reminded me of our good, ole days;
a wealth of experience to cherish.
We used to play, laugh aloud
and hang out at our place,
with my younger sisters,
we would play ‘hide and seek.’
We used to fight too,
scream and yell to one another,
when our game seemed to turn out
like a tight competition –
we’d really shout and yell.
Oh, my childhood days!
those refractions of the past
enable me to seek constantly
God’s presence in my own journey.

first date
Just because
I ate
you paid
doesn't mean
I lay
I open
I preen
Take me home
fast as you can
I'm too young
your'e too much a man
I want to lay in my mama's bed
I want to watch the news
I want to hear how people died
that's not as scary as you
Kim
1st put on my mama's site

Cleanliness I absolutatingly fear...
For I only luv the mess I see,
It makes me believe I am not alone
In this sight of a messed-up and lonely room.
It'sh scaring me seeing purified spirit
With all th-this cleaned up vision.
Mirrors reflect my cleaned room...
In the darkness, within the shadows,
Are haunting red, yellow, and green:
Lights which are known as eyes
According to my mind...
Not as ordinary as others may seem...
For I am rather filled with secret eccentricity,
I loves seeing people electrified when in
Sight of my real personality:
Hyper eccentricity!

In comparison, to my past, from till today,
the latest things, as a kid, for me, wasn't such.
Yet still, while I was a kid, growing up, the
love displayed, from parents, meant, so much.
In reference, to back then, to now,
just to survive, to a kid, was a reluctant, way to live.
Yet still, while I was a kid, growing up, the sacrifice,
made, from parents, shown the length, they would give.
In honor of, ever since, to beyond,
in their dedication, of raising me, in doing right, and being strong.
I now realize, since becoming an adult, I have a new found respect,
and gratitude, for my parents, for putting up, with me, for this long.

bees buzzing along
butterflies fluttering by
humming birds sipping the sweet nectar
from the abundance of fragrant flowers
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
young boys playing catch
little girls jumping rope
older girls turning double dutch
skate boarders whizzing pass
bikers cycling down the street
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
shooting skelly tops
playing marbles
pick-up sticks and jacks
hopscotch on the sidewalk
roller skating down the driveway
touch football on front lawns
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
folks old and young frolicking
in the cool water of the sprinkler
neighbors tending to their gardens
and shrubbery
kids selling homemade lemonade
from a homemade stand on the corner
stick ball in the city streets
red light, green light, one, two, three
Miss Mary Mack, pitty pat
one giant step, may I
Simon says
remembering the lazy, hazy days
of my youth
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day

I dig my toes into the sand,
breathe the air of my fatherland,
salt air holds a sense of healing,
too long, I've waited for this feeling.
Now I'm on a mountainside,
snowflakes drifting in my eyes,
the air is crisp, the view is grand,
too long, I've missed my motherland.
My life's a droll dichotomy,
half my heart across the sea,
Southern born, yet Alpine bred,
white cross on a flag of red.
Divided always, never whole,
two homelands tear apart my soul,
a Southern girl, also half-Swiss,
can never find the place I fit.
Back and forth 'cross oceans roam,
no place ever feels like home,
in my dreams, my german's fluent,
all my life's been incongruent.

My bags are packed
Memories strike me at the door
Abused and scorned
Love supposedly from the heart ripped and torn
Heartaches and headaches
Give and take
Nights of laying awake
Praying to God to keep me safe all for my sake
Love lost and nothing else gained
Swinging of the hands and swearing of the mouth causing nothing but pain
Happiness was taken away from me
I couldn't be the kid I always wanted to be
I felt alone and all by myself
Without God, there was me and no one else
These walls tell so much
It hurts to the depth of my soul with just one touch
This was something I kept bottled in
All because I didn't want to be judged by my friends
It was because I was ashamed
Why was I when I wasn' t the one to blame?
This will always be the broken part of my heart
That will always tear me down and apart
This has caused me to not know how love feels and suppose to be
Cause this has done nothing but permanently damage me
Finally I'm moving out
No more hiding what these scars are about
To speak the truth, I was just another teen statistic
But I pray that no other child has to go through it
Now free, I can go out and share my story
About the damage that was brought on to me
I no longer have to lay at night afraid to go to sleep
Being scared of what may be done to me
Free at last
Free at last
Thank God Almighty,
I am free at last!!!!

The man a self proclaimed gay
One day was talking to Sling Blade
The man who was gay
Declared,"I believe people are under estimating you, Sling Blade.
I believe that behind that exterior
You are very deep thinker on the interior
What were you thinking just now
Please tell me lets just have a pow wow
Come on Sling Blade tell me your thoughts
What's going on inside I haven't bought
That exterior facade'
Tell me what words you've played
What was you thinking just now".
Sling Blade says, "Well how I like mustard with these French Fried Potates wow"
"No! no! not that Sling Blade."
Said the man that was gay
"Before that what thoughts in your head"
Sling Blade answered, "Not a thing instead."
The man that was gay
Looked at him twice and did say
"Oh!"
(Movie called "Sling Blade" has really been stuck in my mind. Sling Blade spent years in
a mental institution for the murder of his mother and her lover. Actually"Sling Blade" was an
abused child that had the traits of a psychopath probably because of the abuse. But I
gathered that he was a deep thinker but kept it hidden and was unable to connect
emotionally because of the abuse."

The traffic flies by
At a fast-paced clip
They say on a warm day
It's a nice little trip
The county came in
And smoothed out the road
Past the porch where we sat
And learned of "The Code"
In my mind I still see him
Though he is long gone
And I still hear the words
To his old Cowboy songs
He spoke of the cow trails
And called them by name
Said the dust all around us
Was one and the same.
He told us the stories
Of the days that were past
We looked to the future
Swore we'd make them last
We rode our stick ponies
And we rounded up strays
And we knew we'd be Cowboys
For all of our days.
The buildings stand empty
A testimony to time
But they're filled with the dreams
That I still call mine
You can blacktop a road
But they will always be there
Those dust covered memories
That hang in the air.
They've paved the dirt road
That rolls by the farm
Where we laughed and played Cowboy
In the fields and the barn
And we learned where we came from
And who we could be
And the dust of that dirt road
Is still part of me.

little boy blue
out stirring the coop
out in the woods
allergic to something
this one thing
little red never knew
chicken soup
tell me shes just sick
get me the hunter
little boy blue
the cheaptrick to outsmart the wolf
the wolf is just another sheep
dejavous to have this dance
side step the hay fever
and little boy blue will play a tune for you
deja vous have we not been here before
howling together at this moon
little bit of red rum for grandma
and we will be back at square one
thinking we will bark at the moon
just deja vous
so cute to see you in that bonnet
brown eye red dog
smacking those lips
little bit of red rum for grandma
the dog know what we are saying
slide six and lets scope it out
little boy blue play us a tune
and we will howl at the moon one last time
like a deja vous
while red gets the soup for grandma
grandma has hey fever
just leave a trail of crumbs
so we can track our steps
take it down from the past
step by step
childhood horrors all we have left
something to say of the chimney sweep
with a hundred ways to die
all i can do to save the wolf
hungry enough to eat you
but with enough food in my hand to keep it at bay

Reasons.
So you say your past has found you
It don't want to let you go.
Come and walk with me awhile
there's something you should know.
You see him standing over there?
Do you recall you broke his heart?
The lesson that he learned
was to make a brand new start.
See the girl with freckles
you bullied her in school.
She learned to rise above it
she turned out pretty cool.
See the one you thought you used
to help you make it through.
What it is you failed to see
is they were using you.
Every road you ever traveled
to make it through a season.
Each and every thing you've done
all happened for a reason.
The fact that you are sorry
you needn't bear it any longer.
Each mistake along lifes way
makes someone even stronger.
You made amends along the way
you've owned up to the shame.
The memories that haunt you
don't even know your name.
So take the guilt you harbor
and put it on a shelf.
There's no future in the past
it's time to forgive yourself.
Edwin C Hofert

Welcome to the softened moon, sweet fresh one.
The most gracious gift I have now received.
A new baby, a fresh beauty budling.
Wrapped in ecstatic delight delivered
by the Goddess herself.
Into my arms to be nurtured, to seek the sky, to dream with orchids.
Unwrapped by life, a slow turning proceeds.
I am helpless, for I know growth.
Beauty and Pain, all at once.
I am learning to let go as you grow, slowly..
May the world be ever worthy of my child.

I was told yesterday
That someone else will come and forever stay
At first, I was a little confused
Because I didn't understand the news
A few months later, I looked at my mother
And thought to myself, 'what's happening to her?'
They tell me I can't do this or that with her
We don't have fun together anymore, I wish she'd get better
Two more months went by
Then she was rushed to the hospital with pain and I wasn't told why
My dad put me in the car and drove so fast
Finally, we reached the hospital at last
My dad ran and he ran and he ran
He went to the back while I sat with family members and waited patiently not
knowing what's at hand
After two days of me and dad being alone
She was back home
This time with someone else
And I realize that it will no longer be me by myself
In the house they come with a little baby
They bypass me and I thought to myself, 'what about me?'
Days have gone by
And so many people have come, but passed me by
I no longer have fun with my mom and dad
So I go in my room to be alone and sad
The next day, grandma and grandpa came to see the baby
Again, I was bypassed
But this time I came out and asked
"What about me?"
Everyone was taken by surprise
I repeated myself and sat there and cried
They all came running to comfort me
And explained to me about the baby
And most of all that they didn't forget about me

I can see her, staring back,
through the mirror.
She looks just like me.
I touch her, but she is cold and hard.
She smiles when i smile, and cries with me,
only her world is silent, and mine filled with noise.
I used to think she wanted to be like me,
but now, I want to be her-
she is stronger than me.
Often I've wondered if mirrors can reflect
not only what is outside, but inside as well,
for I fear I would see
a monster,
staring back at me.
I cannot hurt her,
though I have tried
she doesn't feel any pain,
and I can scream, and call her names
for hours on end,
until I collapse
a lifeless puppet on the floor,
but still she follows me,
everywhere

Shattered doll tattered and torn
Tossed aside and not played with anymore.
You ragged material compared to me.
You must be begging to be free.
Used up and worn
Missing buttons galore.
You probably wonder what you existence is for.
You cotton is sticking out.
Your stitching is coming out.
No one plays with you anymore.
A doll so poor.
You are now thrown away.
No one wants to play.
Ragged tattered shattered doll.
You are agonized with the fall.
You are me!
I finally see.
I stand tall,
As a ragged tattered shattered doll.

To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
when I heard
you was gonna
represent Tom
at the trial
and share the widow’s homelier pottage
bowed ‘til your bonnet brushed the floor
far below you saw the bricks on the floor
mostly these are seen as food labels
stooped and raised your knees,
because of laziness
the dust of the city
backward down your back so thin
like ducks.
And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”
(This poem was created using snippets from other poems.)

Shh…
Shuttered the stifling air
Confining her innocence
Clinging to a teddy bear
Shh…
Ruffled the blanket of lies
Concealing her trembling
The lids to her cries
Shh…
Echoed the corners of the room
Beneath the glowing ceiling
Of a neon moon
Shh…
Creaked the rays of flight
Unlocking morning
Pardoning night
Jesus, she whispered
Lowering her weary head
Do you know why my father
Comes to my bed

Maryanne Magilicutty….
Loved to play with Silly Putty
Growing up she wouldn’t share
Her friends were sad…she didn’t care~
She rolled it up into balls
Bounced it up and down the halls
Everyone saw her frown…
When it bounced right out of town~
She chased it as far as she could go
An impossible feat, she was feeling low
She lost the putty she loved so fair
Her friends knew but did not care~
There is one thing she should have done
Which was…to share her putty fun~
Her friends only wished she’d share…
Her Greedy ways were most unfair
Karma took her putty away
Bouncing out of sight that day
I guess you know NOW what to do
When someone wants to play with you~

It was many and many year ago
In the kingdom of Granny you are so great
After a day of shopping, playing on this very date
There was a hugh yard sale
Just beside the paved road
That's where you spied him
The yellow bear with no clothes
There the lady that loved him
Said her husband told her he had to go
Said he needs a home with lovi'n
A little boy for him to hold
So a little boy could be bold
It was a close relationship
But good things come to end
The little boy grew up
Somehow became a man
Leavi'n Yellow Bear collecti'n
Dust and cling'n to years of sand

Into the Night
As I drift into a peaceful night slumber..
Sounds owned by the night, enter my chamber.
Crickets chirp a tune to share..
From the corners of the dusk; filling the night air.
The moon peers through the window, sprawling to the floor.
Making slight shadows, for creating a frightening folklore.
I hear little feet scurrying across the room.
It was a mouse, I think; escaping his foredoom.
Leaves from branches brush across the window screen.
The night was proving to be more then it seemed.
Moths flutter aloft a lighted street post.
A slight breeze ascends the curtains, simulating a ghost!
In the near distance, came the sound of a drummer.
Then out of nowhere, a flash splits the darkness asunder!
Rain patters down steadily on the worn rooftop.
Then the night went placid leaving a picturesque backdrop.
The smell of the rain renders me soporific.
Slipping into a dream, I ponder on tomorrow nights frolics!

A cry for help
a barren breeze
a body ravished
lifeless
in a womb of desolate brush
Stacy was six years old
she loved rainbow sherbet
the color purple
her mother’s voice
But Stacy is dead
as are her hopes and dreams
forever vanquished
by the bloody hand of iniquity

The cabin was on a dirt road
we rode our bikes for miles it seemed
always knowing where to go
remember when Kevin got creamed?
Over the land filled with rocks
we'd kick the dust up in the air
wearing our shoes and socks
living without a care.
We would go to the lake each day
running to get there fast
all day lond we'd play
the time just seemed to last.
Across the lake you could see
all the oak surrounding the park
we'd always stay passed three
not leaving 'till it was dark.
The water was crystal clear
we swam all day long
sometimes we even saw deer
sat around and sang songs.
From the corner of our spot
where we'd jump unafraid,
the dock was sturdy and hot
Oh! the games that we played.
Running back and forth for hours
between the lake and the stream
sometimes there were showers
Doug would always make us scream.
The days it was colder
we'd pick berries bush by bush
our fingers got purple and older
Regan's bowl filled with mush.
The nights we'd spend together
with cinnamon toast and wishes
not caring about the weather
only about the Hershey Kisses.
I miss the times we sewed
pulling the threads too tight
the patience that you showed
to teach me how to do it right.
I thank the Lord each day
for leaving you here for us
the memories will forever stay
Thank you for your love.

this is a one way street, kid.
why are you out so late?
you dont know what your sayin',
kid.
tell me what i am saying.
tell me what i am saying.
i drowned in the ocean
i was swallowed by the sea
for miles and miles
thats all i could see
steal. dont steal. steal. dont steal.
still,
i'll should have learned to swim.

I would rather have people
Wanting to get to know me
Instead of me
Getting to know them first.
I would rather have people
Show some respect to my
"Weird" interests.
I would rather remain single
Even when amongst couples.
Independent I am and will always be
So I am fine without a "special other".
Personally I would rather
Just be myself
And different from everyone else...

With all the noise and hurry—
We start to wonder why
Those things that are most precious
Are gifts you cannot buy?
The first snow of the season—
A grandchild’s happy grin—
The miracle of child birth—
Memories of back when.
First love under summer trees—
Watching a rippling stream—
A good day’s work that’s finished—
Achieving your life’s dream.
Giving a hand to old friends—
Breathing in those flowers—
Doing the things that are right—
Watching clouds for hours.
Keeping your dearest vows—
A bright morning sunrise—
Fulfilling your promises—
Keeping love in your eyes.
Relishing a child’s laughter:
Faces on Christmas morn—
Honoring your commitments
And the day Christ was born.
With all the noise and hurry—
We start to wonder why
Those things that are most precious
Are gifts you cannot buy?

Bought into all I could see
As though it could help me hide
Until a witness directed me
Into the judge’s dead designs
The whispers will come for me
Still can’t escape the signs
When the victim directs his plea
It is I that must then deny
Broken and raised in pain
Does nothing demand it gone?
And now there’s nowhere to put the blame
Is there nowhere I can belong?
The judge now demands my name
As though I am the one that wronged
That dying child again
As he wrote out his silent songs
This jury of disease
Planting all I was
And what will come from the seed?
Another reason to remain lost

I am here
But they don’t see
Mr. Officer
You’re talking of me
You say tell a teacher,
A friend or you
But don’t you know
What happens if I do
I have a family to protect
Don’t you see
I am here
You are talking of me
No one has a right
To do what you’re saying
This isn’t a game
That I am here playing
If it happens to me
Then others will be safer
I take it on myself
To be the protector
I am only seven
This choice I have made
My silence is spoken
My life I will trade
I have a younger sister
It is her I protect
If it happens to me
Then her he will neglect
I have a mom
She’s happy you see
I will keep my little secret
It hurts no one but me

I'm not the "Scum from Swartz Creek".
I'm not the "Geek from Gaines".
I'm not the "Brat from Byron",
but the stigma still remains.
I've worn so many labels
and I've lived up to them all.
Refuse to be on display.
I just can't take the fall.
If what you see is ugly,
or just not what you'd be,
try to see how important it is
that you be you and I be me.
I'm not the Scum from Swartz Creek.
I'm not the Geek from Gaines.
I'm not the Brat from Byron,
but the stigma still remains.

He never came around much, and never stayed too long.
Carried a vial of whiskey in a paper sack, sang a song.
But this day was special, my heart was so alive.
I carried a sack too, with candy, today I'm five.
He had said, "Come on son, let's go to town, get a treat."
Joy filled my little being. I felt all of ten feet.
Wrapped me a suck in my sack, cherry, my favorite kind.
As he slugged away on his bag, I slued away on mine.
My little legs, nearly running, three steps to his one.
But the sun was shining, we were together, father and son.
He spoke little that I could understand. About dreams lost.
Said I should follow the rainbow, forget the cost.
He said "life is short, pleasures few, so have a good time."
We followed the path through the woods, his hand in mine.
We walked beside the railroad track, till the sun dipped low.
How far? Five or six miles- couldn't tell, didn't know.
My short legs were aching, but I never complained.
For in the distance, I could hear the approaching train.
He sat me on a rack and said, "Let's rest a spell."
He was getting tired too, from his walk, I could tell.
As the clamor of the train grew louder, I became excited.
"I'll see the train up real close", I said delighted.
It grew louder and louder, till it was all I could hear.
I laughed aloud, looked at pop. On his face was a tear.
He jumped, ran to the passing train, lunged into an open door.
I screamed and cried "Don't go!", but never saw him anymore.
His crumbled bag lay on the ground, a memory at my feet.
He had said, "Lets go to town, get a treat."
I threw my bag on the ground, all the sweets spilled out.
At five it was only candy, but it was my life no doubt.
Belief, trust, hope, faith, love, burst forth onto the ground.
I sat there on my rock and cried, till the sun went down.
Then with a tear stained face i turned to follow the railroad track
Knowing all the while, there was a rainbow,
Somewhere behind my back.

Lying here I awaken to the old familiar dream
As if not there, just an interloper it might seem
I watch a life I no longer recognize yet it seems so real
I envision innocence of the child I see begin to kneel
Whispering a prayer from lips trembling with humility
Love emanates from faith filled words of her reality
Help me father to understand I do not know what I have done
Mommy is so angry I want so badly just to run
I do not want to anger her so please let me see why
I will do all I can to help but please don't let me cry
I need to be a good girl so she will not hate me you see
I want to make mommy happy then maybe she'll love me
Years have gone and still this dream comes back once again
I know now it wasn't me but I didn't know that then
Fear grips me still if anger is about to rear its ugly head
No child deserves to live life with that awful sense of dread
Help is there for every one that wants it to be
I know as I was that little girl praying God would protect me.

So, what do you have to tell me,
Oh little girl, my little girl?
Oh what do you have to tell me
that brings wholeness
to our world?
---
I was not born all filled with fear,
I was not born for hate
I did not arrive
upon this world
too early or too late
---
Oh, little girl,
you need not cry,
Your sadness is
from years gone by
Take heart, my sweet and gentle one
at last our freedom has begun
For you’re still here,
you did not die
I am you
and you
are I

I wake up to you every morning,
your face I can see.
I'd like to share a happy moment,
but it will never be.
Our times together could have been fun.
We would play ball, laugh and run.
As the years went by, I'd go to school.
I played many sports, thinking of you.
I got a job and worked very hard
to save my money and buy a car.
I took you for a ride
and as we cruised together,
I thought of how much fun we could have had,
but no, not ever.
It was all a dream
I guess I had.
Someone to be here
that I could call Dad.

A slender black spot
On my bedroom door at night
Became a crawler.
Around the carport,
Up and down the hall peeking,
The lightning man ran.
Hideous tree men...
Shadows like bad guys reaching...
Monsters imagined.

HAVE YOU EVER FELT NOT GOOD ENOUGH
NOT EVEN IN LOVE.
WHEN IT COMES TO FRIENDS I FAIL THE TEST.
I COME IN SECOND BEST.
WHEN IT COMES TO MOST CHOSEN
YOU’RE NOT MOST.
WHEN IT COMES TO LOOKS
YOU NEVER MADE THE BOOK.
I AM SECOND BEST.
IT RESTS AT BETTER THAN NOTHING
BUT WHAT IS NOTHING?
I CAN’T BE MYSELF AT ALL.
I DON’T STAND TALL.
I’M ONLY A NEED ME PERSON ON A QUEST.
I’M TIRED OF BEING SECOND BEST.

I was never one of those
“desirable” kinds.
Never will be.
And I’m okay with that.
But being 14 years old
Stuffing padding down my shirt
And smearing big sister’s makeup across my face
Just to get some 19 year old to stuff his tongue down my throat
Is what it took.
Standing
In front of the mirror
Knowing I was about to get caught
Cause trouble
In the most unladylike of ways.
Wipe the mascara from under your
Undeveloped
Eyes
And cheeks,
Girlie
‘Cause it’s okay to be afraid
That’s what men are s’posed to do to ya
I told myself
And at the age of 14
I laid on my mother’s bed
With my sister’s tiny skirt
Giant heels
Fake breasts
Staring at the cover of some (skinny girl, poofy hair, sensual lips)
O v e r d o n e
Magazine that was stolen from a doctors' office
Cause we couldn’t afford to buy ‘em
It’s ironic now
I had to steal the very thing that made me
Feel like I had to succumb to the will of a
Superior
Frat boy
Into the flames of this party I walked
Teetering on the heels I’d never before used
Licking my lips and trying to come off like I was dumb enough to love you
I’d never had alcohol
Couldn’t even pronounce half the names
Of the things boys were downing
One
By
One
And in that room of too many people
With too much skin
And too many noises
And too many illegal things being smoked and snorted and eaten
I ran to you
Because those things were what you did
In college
As a grown up
And I wasn’t one
So I ran
I can pretend that my eyes didn’t widen
When you whispered into my poor, innocent ears
When your hand reached up my sister's skirt
And you didn’t know.
“I’m 16” I would say
Screaming “No” in my head
“Look past me
Look harder
Please”
And as the moment that your infinite world took over mine
I realized that as much as I loved it
As much as I was
Grown up
I wasn’t.
I went home that night
Wiped the sex from my face
The drugs from my body
The alcohol from my veins
And I was happy.
Happy in the sense
That I knew I did something that I wanted to
...But would later regret...
Happy that I allowed myself to make decisions
...Even though they were dumb...
Happy that I knew I’d have to lie for the rest of my life.
14.

Light leavens leaden doors.
Genealogies of genocide are lost
in long night rides through thistled trees,
dark reunions of distant blood.
Kinships are recounted, mantras murmured
of summer savory and sorrel flaxseed
like scars on wrists, a sparrow grass of needles.
We are immutable, terra cotta with wild glints
of sea-flecked eyes--
a mask of freedom, a final submission.
Origami moths mime legends in tallow lights,
stigmata their small dyings with rites of regeneration:
bleeding dim faiths, sealing silent sins
with the infection of sky.
We become insane shadows, cloistered cousins
of a dark, moist marrow
mythological as opaque men in pale pearled sheets,
chiaroscuro faces written in a white rage of worms.

My childhood was moments of open opportunity
When we showed our spirit so uninhibited
An age that assured our souls truly existed
Childhood was when I would feel and express
All that I now hide and captures me frightened
Moments when I expressed love generously
Unashamed of whom I was or what I might become
A place where others cared about my comportment
When there was truth before promises were cast
A time when you held me to you in love unrelenting
Here was the time of emotions untamed discovery
Building in power as they fracture and burst forth
Washing in consequence all those who surrounded me
It was exhilaration in the venture of each dawning day
Or the peace of silence shared on a campfire beach
In my youth I burned with an all-encompassing passion
Consuming me whole and rending me unscarred fear
My childhood was all that I allowed it to become
When my heart was untainted and evil existed elsewhere
When I was seeing only what I chose to see
It was eternal
Now that it has faded to bits of memory held fondly
Once childhood has passed it is departed
I can only capture its essence momentarily
Then it fades as my fingers try to touch it

Wouldn't it be funny
If you could escape the part
Where he stood before you and told you
What a piece of 'rubbish' you are
And where you started to believe you were.
Wouldn't it be funny
If you could escape the part
Where he punched you
Then another slap
Before persuading himself
You'd caused your bloody nose.
Wouldn't it be funny
If you could escape the part
Where he stood before you with a knife
Told you slowly and clearly
How he would take your life.
Wouldn't it be funny
If you could escape the part
Where you dreaded every second of every day
Never certain how he would turn
Would he be loving or how much would it hurt?
Wouldn't it be funny
If you could escape the past
That you could love and trust
Without the haunting echoes
Of every moments he done.
Wouldn't it be funny
If you could laugh in the face of all you lost
Wouldn't it be funny
If you could escape what happened cost
Where your mind could be free of that part.

As the child rolled through a field of flowers
he spotted a butterfly flittering towards the sky
and thought he might grab the thing, sprout wings
and let the beauty carry him to heaven
he jumped and stretched out his little arms
but the insect had floated out of reach
and with a thud he fell back to the soil,
sobbing to the sun.
But he had to try.

One blinding flash
Then Darkness surrounds me
And Then the Boom
Noises that would go unnoticed any other night
Echo through the hall
And grow and come to life
They grow limbs and manes
And claws and teeth
And a blood lust…
But it’s just my cat.
I’ve lost my mind.
Burglars materialize
Because it’s that sort of night
I know it’s impractical
People, regardless of occupation don’t materialize
And this weather only suits them in the movies
And then Killers Materialize
For this I blame Grimsley Graham and the book he assigned to us last year
A book I read on a night like this
People, regardless of occupation, do not materialize
And killing for laughs is impractical
And where could they hide my body on a night like this?
Why do I do this every time?
I hate it when the power goes out.

It is a thing of wonder,
this fish,
Missouri channel cat nearly four feet long,
wet pewter worn with water.
Father holds it up for the box camera, muscles
balled beneath green polo shirt,
sweat spreading slowly like vast continents.
This is one that didn't escape, whiskered
face smooth gray as a hog's head
bringing back old stories of catfish
big as men lying hidden on river's floor,
waiting their turn to grin,
dangle cigarettes from niches of mouths, click cameras,
capture us as trophies and mere men.

blue
i once knew you
saw you behind
eyes glassed by
rage- or maybe
lust, i wouldn't
know.
green
the shiny sheen
melting down my
porcelain face-
disgraced.
red
storms, gasps of
pumping blood
pissing on the
god of love.
purple
rose clusters
on the flesh
buttons pressed
in sequence-
(inside, outside)
gold
streams of light
contrasting with
the stains left by
the night.

under the pines we dug deep down
to find our way to Shadow Town
the taste of fear was on my tongue
I tried to sing the song we sung
when slipping through the mystery
wood
last winter when you said we should
hide and seek the silver fox
the one that you kept in a box
beneath the ancient cuspidore
that grandma hid behind the door
the smell of peppermint and wine
split the night and I was nine
you were ten or seventeen
or maybe somewhere in between
we excavated thirty days
surrounded by a purple haze
that rose from egos torn apart
we dug a hole in someone's heart
who is it now?I heard you ask
who's interfering with our task?
your mother and the love you lost
we've broken down the walls of frost
the Shadow Town is made of ice
we've cracked the shell,we've done it twice!
all is melting ,running wild!
I think you are an awful child
to dig and dig and cause such pain
now close this mess back up again
those who live in Shadow Town
prefer the cool dark underground
the light of day ,the burning rays
defrosting ,breaking down our ways
you'll show our neighbors,tell your friends
and this is how our secret ends
so we can't dig here anymore
I think I'll just return to four
and y ougo back to six or five
and we'll just try to stay alive.

He was waiting, sitting
by the lake
watching the gray
water ripple and flow,
the slow wind pushing it
steadily away from the shore.
A sign on a tree by the bank
warned in black and red:
NO SWIMMING
SWIMMING CAN CAUSE ILLNESS.
His mind drifted
back to that hot summer day
when, after work, his dad
first took him swimming,
to the creek on the way to Mammoth,
just a short ride from home.
The creek ran through a field
behind the Klayka's house and barn
and they had to chase
the cows out of the stream
when they got there.
He watched his father
strip down to his shorts,
the dark green Army ones,
and he did the same,
just leaving their clothes in piles
on the bank above the creek.
His father dove in
and came up backwards
near the opposite side,
sliding slow and smooth and easy
through the brown water.
He ran,
holding his nose,
mouth clamped shut,
his right arm flailing the air,
and jumped,
feet hitting
the mucky bottom,
and sprang up,
head and shoulders popping
out of the water,
water flying all around him,
light exploding
in his eyes.
The water was warm
but it felt good
there in the stream
with his father
that hot summer day.

Rummaging through the past
In boxes closed by time
Opening all your memories
Of life left behind
Smiles cross your lips
Tears hide behind your eyes
Faded memories come flooding back
Of life left behind
Photographs taken
Moments made eternal
Letters written
Thoughts inscribed in journals
Thinking back
Remembering the good and the bad
Thinking back
On life that you once had

I never knew a little boy
could be as sweet as you.
I always wondered how a son
could be anything but "Blue".
You've shown me how to love
something different than a girl.
You've shown me just what joy can be.
You've really changed my world.
I say "The sky is blue."
You say "I wonder why?"
I say "Maybe someday you'll find out."
You say "I'm sure I'll try!"
I know you're bound for greatness.
I read it on your face.
I hope you know how special you are
just because you're Chase.

We nod into gentleness like genocide
sleep in flourishing sanity
through elms sifting epitaphs.
Our sheen of silence on white muslin
offers up old uncles like hedge apples
useless seeds of grieving trees.
I cannot remember my father
ever saying he loved me.
There is no time for monologues,
soft slurs of alabaster days
burnished on a tusk of sky.
Tenderly, the testicular moon rises
in night, iridescent, opulent,
laid open like a wound.

Have you seen what I've seen
Going out and ending up in the middle of this terrible scene
I have nowhere to run
Because everywhere I turn, I hear the shot of a gun
I run and I run but have nowhere to hide
Because there's a body lying around every turn
The body is just another victim of a life denied
Caught up in the game and their life got burned
The body's lying there with blood pulling from each and every way
There I'm left standing scared, scarred, and with nothing to say
I'm tired of living within these walls
The walls of the life of worrying is my life going to be over before God calls
I wish all of this would soon be over
Because this is a life that I don't love
I know my mom also wishes this to be over
Because this isn't the life she dreamed of
This is the life no child should be living in
Seeing people get killed over some colors
If I stay here, this is how my life will end
And I don't plan to kill and not give a care about the life of others
If heaven was a mile away
I'll leave with the clothes on my back
The shoes on my feet will help walk away
And there will be no turning back
No more dead bodies
No more waking up at night from hearing gun shots
No more thugs and gangstas scaring me
No more being afraid of walking home praying that the next person is me not
No more being afraid of staring down the barrel of a gun
No more being afraid of being a child and having fun
I want to be in a place where there's less crying
Where I can't see no more bodies laying dying
I want to be in a place where there's no pain
No feelings of frightness of being slained
I want to be free
Free to wear all the colors my mother brought me